


Hiding Places

by Kaye_21



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Confessions, Drunkenness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Related, Fluff, Humor, Love, M/M, Mostly love, Smut, and
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 04:14:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 60,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8042203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaye_21/pseuds/Kaye_21
Summary: Barba never says anything. Not until he absolutely has to.(Set during the Season 17 finale, 'Heartfelt Passages.' Could be read as an episode tag, or as a re-imagining of Season 17 in its entirety.)





	1. Gone

**Author's Note:**

> The story is complete. I will be posting one chapter per day.

“The threats started after I indicted the three cops who shot Terrence Reynolds.”

Sonny gapes.

Ten months.

Barba has been getting death threats for ten months, and he never said anything.

Barba never says anything.

Not until he absolutely has to.

That’s why he’s telling them now.

Barba has to say something now, because there was a direct threat. Barba has to say something now, because he can no longer avoid it. Barba has to say something now, because things have gotten serious.

Which makes Sonny almost unbearably nervous.

Scared.

Exasperated.

Sonny didn’t even get a heads-up.

Barba just called Sonny into his office, Rollins in tow, for a ‘meeting,’ like nothing was out of the ordinary, and he proceeded to reveal that he has been receiving threats against his life.

Just like that.

_‘He said he could throw me down the stairs and crack open my skull.’_

Just like that.

Sonny actually had to sit down, right there on Barba’s desk, to process it all.

In a way, it’s a good thing Amanda is with him. While she’s asking all the pertinent questions, Sonny has the opportunity to quietly seethe.

_‘Why didn’t you tell us about that?’_

Us.

Why didn’t Barba tell ‘them?’

Not Sonny.

Them.

All of them.

The squad.

That’s all Sonny could say.

That’s all he could ask.

_‘Why didn’t you tell us?’_

With Amanda in the room, watching, listening, all Sonny could ask was ‘why didn’t you tell _us?’_

Barba almost looked bored as he elaborated.

_‘I’ve been getting threats all year.’_

Such a casual declaration.

Like Barba was talking about something trivial. Like he was just venting to his coworkers about a minor inconvenience.

Barba nonchalantly said Heredio threatened to kill him in plain view, right there on the steps of the courthouse. Barba basically admitted that he’s only alive right now because Heredio spared him. Barba coldly mentioned that he was almost murdered just days ago.

Just like that.

_‘Hang-ups, mostly, on my cell, from burners. A few texts…’_

Hang-ups, a few texts, an unidentified man stalking him and a direct death threat, delivered in person.

A warning, maybe.

And Barba just blurted it out, like it’s not a big deal.

Sonny is surprised Barba didn’t just send a precinct-wide memo.

‘I will be out of town starting Friday, so please contact my secretary with any inquiries and I’ll get back to you on Monday. Also, be advised that someone wants me dead.’

Sonny is still trying to process it.

Sonny is standing now, reeling, going over the Terrence Reynolds case in his head, trying to think back to the night of the indictment.

Sonny is trying to remember which cop said what about Barba, trying to remember which of the defendants called Barba a ‘son of a bitch’ and which said, ‘good luck next time he needs a cop’, Sonny is trying to retroactively assess which of his brothers and sisters in blue may have crossed the line from bitter, drunken insults to potentially dangerous threats.

The list is long.

Long, and most likely incomplete.

That night, at that bar, Sonny made sure to defend Barba’s honor as they got news of the indictment, ‘cause Sonny never did know when to keep his mouth shut.

Maybe some of those other cops knew better.

Maybe some of them kept _their_ mouths shut around him.

Sonny knows there’s a lot of cops who see him as Barba’s little snitch. As that cop who thinks he’s better than them ‘cause he wants to be a lawyer, or an ADA, just like that ‘son of a bitch’ Barba.

That night, at that bar, some of those cops probably saw Sonny as someone who could prosecute _them_ one day, so they kept their uglier, their darker, their more hostile comments to themselves.

Sonny is regretting it now.

Speaking up.

Defending Barba.

He meant it, Sonny meant every word, and he was right, too, because there _was_ a runaway Grand Jury, but he’s regretting it now.

Maybe he’d have better intel today, if he had kept his emotions in check back then.

Maybe he should have been smarter about the situation.

Maybe he should have pretended he hated Barba too, just to get the others to open up.

Maybe he should have done what he always does when he’s dealing with suspects.

Cops.

Bad cops.

Suspects.

What’s the difference?

That case, it rattled Sonny.

Liv, asking him to ‘get creative’ in lieu of a warrant, it rattled Sonny.

Siding with Barba, without a doubt, without a second thought, knowing deep in his gut that Barba was right and Liv was wrong, it rattled Sonny.

Sonny is a cop.

Even now that he’s passed the bar, even now that he’s a licensed attorney, Sonny is a cop.

It’s hard for him to look at other cops as suspects.

As perpetrators.

He does it, when he has to, but it’s hard.

The cops who were directly involved in the shooting, the ones who abused their power and killed an unarmed, defenseless young man, an _innocent_ man, it’s easier to look at them as perps.

As criminals.

That’s what they are.

But the rest? 

The ones who got a little too drunk at that bar, and a little too protective of their colleagues? The ones who started spewing all that crap about Barba in the heat of the moment?

Sonny didn’t think to treat _those_ cops as suspects at the time.

Even as he defended Barba against their slurs, even as he believed, fully and unequivocally, that Barba had done the right thing, even as he questioned their fervor in defending a bunch of killers, Sonny still saw them as cops.

They were just sticking up for their own, no matter what.

Same as Liv.

Sonny gets that.

Sonny was sticking up for his own too.

Sonny keeps trying to remember, he keeps trying to make a mental list of all the officers who were at that bar, Sonny keeps trying to figure out what he may have missed, but his recollection is clouded by emotion.

By everything he felt back then.

Righteousness.

Sympathy.

Protectiveness.

Sonny is having a hard time remembering, and his current emotional state is making it even harder.

Anger.

Frustration.

Shock.

That’s what Sonny is feeling right now.

Shock.

That’s the hardest part.

Standing there, in Barba’s office, hearing all of this for the first time, and trying to conceal his shock.

Sonny doesn’t think he’s doing a very good job.

Amanda keeps shooting him curious looks.

Sonny thinks plopping down on Barba’s desk like he owned the place was a bad idea.

Amanda is probably wondering why Barba didn’t tell Sonny to get off his furniture immediately. Hell, she’s probably wondering why Barba didn’t swat Sonny away with a rolled up paper.

Sonny is wondering the same thing.

Maybe Barba isn’t as nonchalant as he tries to appear.

Which makes two of them.

Sonny knows he doesn’t look nonchalant at all.  Sonny knows he’s freaking out. Visibly. Sonny knows Amanda can see it, and Barba can see it too.

Still. Sonny only looks mildly panicked, when inwardly he’s having a full-scale meltdown, and that’s good enough, considering the circumstances.

Amanda gives Sonny one last questioning look, and then she says she’ll call Liv and arrange for a security detail.

Yet again, Sonny is glad she’s there to take care of business, because he’s not in a position to worry about the logistics right now.

Barba has the nerve to roll his eyes as Amanda pulls out her phone to call Olivia.

Barba has the nerve to act irritated, because Amanda is going to tell on him.

Barba has the _nerve_ to smile at Sonny in solidarity, like they’re all in this together.

Like Sonny didn’t just find out about the threats five minutes ago.

Like they’ve all been busted, and they’re about to get in trouble once Liv finds out.

Like it’s all a big joke.

Sonny doesn’t smile back.

Sonny has no time for Barba’s attempts to make light of the situation.

Sonny is furious.

Barba has been getting death threats for ten months, and he has been sleeping with Sonny for over a year, and he never said anything.

‘Sleeping together.’

That’s what they call it.

That’s what Barba calls it.

They spend all their weekends together, and most of their weeknights. They coordinate their social activities days in advance. Barba sends Sonny an e-mail with his weekly schedule every Sunday afternoon, seven o’clock on the dot, even when they’re sitting right next to each other on the couch. That way, Sonny has it in writing, and he can plan ahead. He can set a few hours aside for cooking or spending some time with his niece and his sisters.

The rest of Sonny’s free time is automatically taken up by Barba.

‘Sleeping together.’

That’s what they call it.

There are currently five of Barba’s fancy-ass suits sitting in Sonny’s closet, and Sonny has the number of Barba’s favorite pizza place memorized, and Barba stayed up late every night for two whole weeks, prepping Sonny for the bar exam, and Sonny spent his only morning off last month picking out earrings for Barba’s mother, because Barba was too busy and didn’t trust anybody else to do the shopping for her birthday, but they’re ‘sleeping together.’

_‘We’ve been sleeping together for over a year, Sonny, and you still don’t know my mother only wears yellow gold?’_

Not like Sonny ever met the woman.

At least Barba thanked him afterwards, when Mrs. Barba said she ‘absolutely loved’ the rose gold earrings Sonny picked for her.

Barba thanked him profusely.

And wordlessly.

As always.

Barba’s words, they’re cutting.

Sarcastic.

Cold.

It’s his actions that tell the real story.

It’s his actions that show warmth.

Not the words.

Never the words.

It’s been over a year, and Barba has yet to say something nice.

It’s been over a year.

Sonny finds that hard to believe, sometimes.

They never even celebrated their first anniversary.

Not officially.

It was three months ago. Almost four, now. Barba was conveniently busy, and Sonny wasn’t sure it was a good idea to call attention to the occasion, so the day came and went without either of them saying anything.

Barba never says anything.

Not until he absolutely has to.

Most of the time, Sonny doesn't say anything either. 

It’s easier that way.

They don’t say anything.

They don’t have to.

First chance Barba got, on the first Saturday after their anniversary, he took Sonny out to an expensive restaurant, and then he took Sonny home, and he let Sonny take things slow, which he almost never does, because Barba likes everything rushed, and Sonny lasted almost a full hour, kissing and licking and biting every spot between Barba’s soft, spread thighs, Sonny lasted an hour before Barba’s muttered begging became impossible to ignore.

Warmth.

Guilt.

Barba felt guilty.

Barba felt guilty for not taking Sonny out on their anniversary, so he took Sonny out three days later.

Like that makes sense.

Like, somehow, in Barba’s mind, it’s fine for them to have a romantic night out, as long as it’s not on their actual anniversary.

Like that makes a difference.

Sonny thinks Barba was just trying to avoid uttering such banalities as, ‘Happy anniversary,’ or, ‘I got you a present,’ or, ‘I’m glad you are in my life.’

Instead, Sonny got, ‘Oh, I see you dressed up,’ and, ‘Isn’t that my tie? It looks good on you, but I pull it off way better,’ and, ‘Order the roasted chicken with the mushrooms, so I can have some too.’

And then, later, Sonny got, ‘Please,’ and, ‘Please, Sonny, _please,’_ and, ‘Come on, I said please,’ and, ‘Yes,’ and, ‘Deeper,’ and, ‘Don’t stop.’

Dating Barba, it’s an experience.

It can be exhausting at times.

It’s still worth it.

Barba can be annoyingly reserved, Barba can be stingy with the sweet talk, Barba can be too sarcastic for his own good, but he has a fun side, too.

Barba loves science fiction. Barba loves Kurt Vonnegut and Philip K. Dick and Ray Bradbury.  Barba loves Star Wars, which Sonny only found out when he discovered a beat-up box set of the original trilogy in VHS, buried somewhere in Barba’s entertainment center. Sonny got so excited that Barba couldn’t hold back an honest-to-goodness smile.

That’s rare.

For Barba, that’s rare.

A real smile.

Even now.

Barba likes to cook, and he’s predictably great at it. That’s another thing they have in common. That’s why Sonny spent the early days of their relationship challenging Barba to impromptu cook-offs. He would dare Barba to outdo him ‘next time.’ Sonny would make his best recipes, or his mother’s best recipes, more like, and he’d generally act like Barba’s culinary attempts were second-rate.

It took Barba over three months to figure it out.

To figure out that Sonny was playing to his competitive side, angling for more dates.

When Barba finally caught on, he didn’t get mad. He let it slide.

That’s rare.

Barba doesn’t let anything slide.

Barba is funny, and not just in a sarcastic way. Sometimes, when they’re out watching a movie, or picking up dinner, or walking around, Barba will mutter something under his breath, low, only for Sonny to hear, and it’ll be the most unexpectedly hilarious thing ever. Granted, half the time it’ll also be sarcastic, but sometimes it will be random and benign. Sweet, even.

Every time that happens, Sonny laughs, loudly, until Barba shushes him.

And then Sonny laughs some more.

Sonny laughs even louder, because Barba always touches his forearm to make him stop. Sometimes there’s a stray pinch, too. Sonny likes that. It’s the only time Barba initiates physical contact when they’re outside.

Barba still hasn’t figured that one out. The reason Sonny laughs so obnoxiously. He seems to think his jokes are just _that_ hilarious.

So Sonny keeps laughing, and Barba keeps touching.

That’s rare.

Barba doesn’t touch anyone else.

Barba likes Sonny.

That’s rare in itself.

Barba dislikes most people.

Sonny always thought Barba disliked him too, hated him even, until they caught the Rudnick case.

Until Sonny cracked it, with that wild but spot-on theory about cross-dressing, which earned him legitimate praise from Barba, for the first time.

Until Sonny noticed Barba was having a hard time in court, and he decided to say something nice, to be supportive, because it didn’t look like Barba was getting support from anyone else.

Just in case, Sonny made sure to get Barba alone in an elevator, because he was worried Barba would insult him and walk away before he’d even had a chance to speak.

Barba didn’t insult him.

Barba was surprisingly receptive to Sonny’s comforting words.

That’s how it all started.

It’s been over a year, now.

They’ve had their ups and downs, but it’s always been worth it.

Or so it seemed, until Sonny found out that Barba has been keeping these death threats from him.

Ten months.

For ten months, Barba has been dealing with this alone. Barba has been dealing with the menacing hang-ups and the threatening texts for ten whole months. Barba has been sleeping with one eye open, suspecting the very cops who are supposed to be on his side, and he neglected to mention any of this to Sonny.

For ten months.

The worst part?

None of this is enough for Sonny to question Barba’s commitment to their relationship.

Sonny doesn’t question Barba’s feelings.

Not anymore.

Not even now.

Not even after this.

Not even after he found out that Barba is capable of lying expertly. Of  fooling him. Of making him believe everything is fine.

That’s still not enough to create doubt in Sonny’s mind.

Sonny knows what he knows.

Sonny is certain.

Sonny knows Barba cares about him.

‘Sleeping together.’

Words.

That’s just words.

They make love.

Every time, Sonny pushes inside, deep, and Barba takes him in, and it’s love.

Sonny doesn’t question that.

That’s why he’s furious.

If they were just friends with benefits, that would be one thing. Sonny would have no expectations. Barba would have no reason to share any of this with him.

But that’s not what’s happening here.

Barba does share things with Sonny.

Maybe not everything, not yet, but Barba does share.

Barba shares all sorts of random and irrelevant and intimate details about his life, down to his mother’s preference in jewelry, or the story of how he bought his first tailored suit, or his love of baseball, or his favorite childhood meal.

Barba actually cooked that for Sonny, once. A makeshift recipe he loved as a child. Barba explained how his mom made it on a busy afternoon, the ingredients chosen half by accident and half by necessity. Barba said he loved it so much that it became a staple in their household. Barba even gave Sonny the recipe. His mother’s improvised recipe. Barba shared that.

But it’s not always something random.

Barba shares pertinent stories too, sometimes. Barba shares those in sympathy. In support.

Like the time he told Sonny he almost failed the bar exam, even though he knew all the answers, because he was having a hard time writing legibly. Because he was so nervous he could barely hold the pen for the first thirty minutes. Because that’s when it sunk in, that his life was about to change forever.

Barba shared that on the last night of their study sessions.

Another time, Barba told Sonny the story of how, at seventeen, he came out to his devout grandmother and then promptly became a lapsed Catholic. With her blessing, crazy as that sounds. Barba told Sonny how his grandmother was the one who convinced his mother to become more accepting. Barba told Sonny about losing his grandmother, too. Barba told Sonny about his guilt.

Barba shared that on the first anniversary of her death.

Barba shares things.

But he didn’t share this.

Barba didn’t share that he was in danger.

That he was afraid.

For ten months.

Barba cares about Sonny, but he didn’t share this, and Sonny doesn’t know why.

They love each other.

They are sleeping together, whatever the name, whatever the label, Sonny and Barba _are_ together, and they love each other, not that they’ve said the words, but Sonny knows what he knows, and Barba didn’t even warn him. Didn’t give him so much as a hint.

For ten months.

Fine, Sonny gets why Barba didn’t tell him from the start. Back then, they’d only been dating for a little while, and it was light and comfortable and fun, and maybe Barba didn’t feel like talking about a potentially life-threatening situation with a casual fling.

Fine.

Sonny gets that.

What he doesn’t get is why Barba didn’t tell him before today.

Why Barba didn’t tell him when they were alone.

Lord knows there was ample opportunity.

Just last night, they were together at Barba’s place.

They had dinner, and they watched _AC_ _360_ _°,_ and they made love, and then they slept in the same bed. They slept right next to each other, with Barba’s hand clutching Sonny’s t-shirt, with Barba’s cheek rubbing against Sonny’s shoulder blade, they slept in the same bed, and Sonny finds it hard to believe it never occurred to Barba to tell him about this at any point during the night.

At any point before this morning.

Before Sonny had to get called into Barba’s office, along with Rollins, to be briefed about a ‘new case.’

Barba’s case.

Barba didn’t even call him.

Barba called Rollins.

That’s how Sonny found out.

What was Barba thinking?

Asking Sonny over for a briefing, like this is any other case?

Bringing Rollins into it?

Forcing Sonny to clamp down on his shock, and his anger, and his fear, just so he can appear semi-professional in front of Amanda?

What was Barba thin…

Sonny belatedly realizes this is _exactly_ what Barba was thinking.

Barba probably wanted to minimize the fallout.

That’s why he waited until they had an audience before revealing that little tidbit.

That trivial little fact.

The fact his life is in danger.

That’s why Barba made sure Sonny wouldn’t come alone.

He didn’t want Sonny to react openly.

To tear him a new one, for keeping something like this a secret.

Sonny almost reacted anyway, Sonny was _this_ close to outing them to Amanda, Sonny barely held back when all he wanted to do was let Barba have it.

Which he still fully intends to do, just not in front of Amanda.

Fortunately for him, and unfortunately for Barba, Amanda quickly gets Liv on the line and steps out to explain the situation. From what Sonny overhears, right before Amanda leaves, it sounds like Liv may be dealing with a situation of her own. It’s probably Munson. Sonny couldn’t care less.

Sonny only cares about one thing right now.

Sonny watches impatiently as the door closes behind Amanda.

Suddenly, Barba seems less interested in making eye contact and more interested in fiddling with his cufflinks.

“Are you serious, Barba? You’ve been gett-”

“Spare me, Sonny. Yes, I’ve been getting death threats. Yes, I never told you. What’s done is done. Let’s just focus on finding out who these people are.”

Sonny can feel his nostrils flaring.

“What’s done is done? A guy approached you twice in the last couple of days? And he said he was gonna crack your skull open? And he got close enough to get on an elevator with you? Alone? Where no one could save you, if he decided to snap your freakin’ neck?

“And he’s still out there? And we don’t know who the hell he is, or who hired him? Or what they hired him to do? We don’t know if he’s just getting paid to intimidate you, or if he’s supposed to finish the job and take you out? That’s your idea of ‘done’? Nothing is ‘done,’ counselor. Not yet. And you should thank God for that.”

Barba waits for Sonny to finish ranting, and then he rolls his eyes.

“Unlike you, Sonny, I don’t make it a habit to thank fictional entities for their non-existent influence in my life.”

Great.

Sonny stepped in it.

He gave Barba an excuse to derail the conversation.

Sonny hates it when Barba does that. When Barba tries to change the subject like Sonny is too dumb to realize what’s going on.

Barba invariably does this when he’s wrong.

When he feels guilty.

Mind games.

These mind games, they’re as close to an admission of guilt as Barba will ever get.

Barba never apologizes.

When Barba gives Sonny a real reason to be mad, which doesn’t happen that often but it does happen, he never apologizes.

He waits a few days, Barba waits for Sonny to cool off after the initial fight, and then he calls like nothing’s wrong. He casually offers to make dinner, because he doesn’t want to ‘wear Sonny out in the kitchen,’ which is Barba’s convoluted way of saying ‘my bad.’

And then Sonny accepts the non-apology, always, because he’s hopeless, and he swings by Barba’s place with a bottle of wine, and he lets Barba wear him out in other, more stimulating ways.

Well, that’s not happening this time.

They don’t have the luxury of waiting.

Not when someone’s out there threatening to kill Barba.

Sonny needs to get the conversation back on track.

“Right. Of course.  God is dead. I get it, Barba. Now what? What do you want us to do? Why did you call us here? You want us to work your case? You want me to work you case? Let’s do it. I got some questions for ya.

“Tell me, how many times has this guy _really_ approached you? Just the two? Are you sure? Did he ever approach you while we were out together? Has he seen me? Have you ever noticed him following you when you come to my place? Does he know where I live?”

Barba finally looks apologetic.

Sonny hit him where it hurts.

Sonny.

Sonny is where it hurts, for Barba.

Sonny knows it.

Barba can ignore the threats to his own life, but he cares way too much to be cavalier about the possibility of someone targeting Sonny too.

“No. Come on, Sonny. I only saw him twice, like I told you. Both times at the courthouse. Never outside of work. Never at your apartment. Never at… at, uh.”

Barba stutters.

Sonny doesn’t like this.

“What? Have you seen him at _your_ apartment?”

Barba exhales.

“No. But, I, uh. I may have given this man my home address. And I may have dared him to come by. Any time he wanted.”

Barba’s voice is down to a whisper by the time he finishes that sentence.

With good reason.

Sonny can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“You _gave_ him your address? A man threatens your life and you invite him over to your house? For what? Dinner, drinks and murder? That’s your idea of handling a threat?”

Barba blinks.

“As a matter of fact, it is.”

Sonny shakes his head.

“Sure! How could I forget? That’s how you handle your business. Macho posturing. That’s how you used to handle your schoolyard scuffles in the Bronx. By mouthing off to bullies. Except you always had somebody else protectin’ you. You’d open your big mouth and then you’d rely on somebody else to do your dirty work. Just like you’re doing right now.”

Barba clenches his jaw.

Maybe Sonny took it too far.

Maybe it was wrong to use what Barba has shared of his past to make a point, but th-

“Schoolyard scuffles? Is that what you think my childhood was like, Sonny? Is that what you imagine life was like in the Bronx? Is that what you pictured, growing up in your quaint little suburban home, with your perfect little family, all the way out on Staten Island?”

Dammit.

Sonny just gave Barba another excuse to derail.

Sonny should have known better.

He _does_ know better.

He shouldn’t have said that.

Sonny is furious.

Too furious to have any sort of filter, which he barely has on a good day.

The thing is, questionable argument aside, Sonny is right.

Barba thinks showing fearlessness is the best way to deal with a bully.

With a criminal.

Barba doesn’t appear to know that could get him killed.

Or maybe he does know, but he doesn’t care.

Sonny really hopes that’s not it.

Sonny sighs.

“You know what, Barba? You said it. What’s done is done. Enjoy your protective detail. Here at your office, and at the courthouse, and at your apartment, where you pretty much invited this guy. You’ll have somebody with you twenty-four seven. You’ll be the safest man in Manhattan. We should all be so lucky.”

Barba flinches.

He looks irritated.

“Hadn’t thought of that, huh, counselor? What did you think was gonna happ-”

“This. I thought _this_ was going to happen. I thought I would tell you about the threats, and you’d overreact, and then I’d lose my privacy and any semblance of a personal life for the foreseeable future.”

Oh.

Maybe that’s why Barba didn’t say anything before.

To spare himself the inconvenience.

Sonny can almost understand that.

It’s a relief.

Maybe Barba doesn’t want to die.

He just wants to stick to his routine.

Maybe he likes his life, and he doesn’t want anything to change.

Sonny can definitely understand that.

Sonny feels calmer.

Just like that.

“Alright. I get it. Just… Maybe if you had told us sooner, we’d have figured out the source of the threats by now. Before this guy got too close. And there’d be no need for a security detail. And I could do my job instead of worrying about ya.”

Sonny attempts a smile, but Barba rolls his eyes again.

“No need to worry about me, Carisi. And don’t let me keep you from doing your job. I don’t want your help. I’ll take care of this. You just keep incompetently working SVU cases like only you can.”

Barba is still at it.

He’s still trying to deflect.

Just when Sonny was starting to calm down.

“Sure. Sure, Barba. I’ll do that. And then, when this guy comes at you for a third time, you can tell him t-”

Amanda barges in, before Sonny’s even finished speaking.

“Carisi, it’s Dodds. Munson’s holding him hostage. Liv got the kids out, but Dodds and the wife are still in there and Munson’s got a gun. We need to go.”

Sonny stares as Amanda turns back around and practically runs out.

Barba stares at the door too, stares at the spot where Amanda was just standing.

This day keeps getting worse.

Sonny needs to go, before Amanda drives off without him.

“If you’ll excuse me, counselor. There’s people out there who actually want my help.”

Sonny barely spares one final glance at Barba before he leaves.

He doesn’t close the door behind him.

 

* * *

 

Dodds is gone. 

Not to the Joint Terrorism Task Force, not like he planned. 

Dodds is gone for good. 

Dead. 

Dodds is dead. 

On his last day, too. 

It’s like every cop cliché, rolled into one. The young officer with the promising career and the pretty fiancée, the guy who’s on his last day at Manhattan SVU before a promotion, and he gets killed. 

Sonny still hasn’t accepted it. 

Sonny is about to enter the bar where they’re holding the post-funeral gathering, Sonny is about to pay his respects to the grieving family, and he still hasn’t accepted it.

Sonny carried the casket, Sonny carried the box that held Dodds’s dead body inside, and he still hasn’t accepted it. 

They really thought Dodds was going to pull through. At first they didn’t, at first things looked grim, but then Dodds got better, and then they all started hoping, his father, his fiancée, Liv, the squad, they all started hoping, and now Dodds is dead.

Barba could end up dead, too.

That’s a thought too nauseating for Sonny to linger on.

And yet he does.

It’s all he’s been thinking about, since Mike’s passing.

‘Mike.’

During the funeral, people kept coming up to Sonny, they kept asking, ‘How did you know Mike?’

Alice, the fiancée Sonny never knew Mike had, and Mike’s mother, and Mike’s brother, and two of Mike’s aunts, they all came up to Sonny because he was a pallbearer, because they assumed he and Mike were longtime friends, maybe from a previous assignment. Sonny didn’t have the heart to tell them he had only known Mike for a few months.

‘Mike.’

Sonny never once called Dodds, ‘Mike,’ not the entire time they worked together. It was always ‘Sarge.’

Sonny never once called him Mike. 

Sonny has never called Barba ‘Rafael,’ either. 

Not once. 

Not in over a year. 

Barba started calling him Sonny before they even started sleeping together.

That’s how Sonny knew. 

But Sonny always says ‘Barba,’ or ‘counselor.’ 

He doesn't know why. 

All Sonny knows is that he can’t bear the thought of losing Barba without ever getting to call him by his first name.

All Sonny knows is that Dodds is dead, and he can’t even process that because his mind is stuck on Barba, on the possibility of someday having to carry Barba’s coffin, and Sonny doesn’t even know if they’d let him do that, if Barba’s mother would let him do that, because she doesn’t know about them, and Sonny has never even met her, and Sonny wants to throw up, and he can’t stop thinking about Barba.

Sonny feels guilty.

Sonny feels guilty for searching every face at Mike’s funeral until he could spot Barba in a gorgeous black suit and silver tie, flanked by two unis, a security detail which was inconspicuous for once, hidden in a sea of uniformed officers.

Sonny feels guilty for smiling when he saw Barba squinting adorably because the sun was too bright.

It’s a beautiful day.

Sonny feels guilty as hell, but he can’t help it.

Can’t help looking.

He hasn’t seen Barba in three days.

After Mike got shot, Sonny stayed at the hospital overnight. They all did, even Liv and Amanda, and then Mike passed away, and Deputy Chief Dodds wanted the funeral to take place immediately, and Sonny doesn’t blame him, and Sonny got distracted with work, and he hasn’t seen Barba in three days.

Sonny spent one of those days at Liv’s house, with the rest of the squad, for an informal wake. There was a proper wake too, held by the family at the Dodds residence, a real wake, with Mike’s body laid out for a viewing, but none of them could handle that for more than a couple of minutes.

They all went to Liv’s house instead, and Sonny cooked a huge pot of pasta, and they all ate and drank and talked about Mike. About dying. About losing people.

Sonny hasn’t lost a lot of people.

He’s been lucky.

Until now.

Sonny spent the remaining two days chasing down leads.

Working Barba’s case.

Somebody had to do it, and no one else had the presence of mind.

They were all too focused on Dodds.

Sonny feels guilty, but all he can think about is Barba.

Amanda’s friend at Intel got an ID on the man who threatened him, Felipe Heredio, and Sonny had to hunt down a current address, which included making a couple of visits to Rikers.

Sonny talked to some of Heredio’s old friends, to former BX9 members who were willing to give him up for more yard time. Then, Sonny put together a team and tried to pick up Heredio, but he was nowhere to be found. Sonny had to arrange for a few units to sit on the location instead.

Heredio is still out there, and Sonny hasn’t seen Barba in three days.

Sonny hasn’t talked to Barba in three days either, though he’s been getting regular updates from Carmen and Barba’s security team. Sonny has been giving them updates, too. News, to relay to Barba. News, like Heredio’s name and gang affiliation.

Sonny was too embarrassed to deliver the news himself.

They were fighting, right before this happened. 

They were fighting about Barba keeping the threats a secret. 

That doesn't matter anymore. 

What matters is that Barba is alive. 

For now. 

Barba could still die.

Barba could die tomorrow, if that piece of crap Heredio and his buddies at BX9 get their way, if those trigger-happy cops who shot Terrence Reynolds get their way, if those corrupt COs at Rikers and their union reps get their way, so many people could potentially want Barba dead, and Sonny hasn’t seen Barba in three days, and Sonny feels guilty.

Sonny feels guilty, for saying what he said about Barba’s childhood.

For getting so angry.

For snapping.

Sonny feels guilty for letting his eyes stray to Barba as he was carrying the body of his fallen comrade.

It helped.

Sonny feels guilty for walking into the bar after the funeral and scanning the room for Barba’s face.

Again.

Sonny feels guilty for letting his eyes skim over that huge, proud picture of Mike in uniform, from happier times, Sonny feels guilty for paying no attention to Mike’s family, sitting near the picture of their son, their brother, their almost husband, Sonny feels guilty for literally sidestepping the table where Dodds Sr. is drinking his pain away.

Sonny feels guilty for ignoring everything in that bar that isn’t the line of Barba’s broad shoulders, or the slickness of Barba’s neat hairstyle, or the flash of silver from Barba’s tie, or the green in Barba’s eyes.

Sonny feels guilty, but the first thing he does, before he even pays his respects, before he even checks on Liv, the first thing Sonny does is look for Barba.

It doesn’t take long to find him.

Barba is one of only a handful of people in that bar who aren’t in dress blues.

Barba is the only one in that bar who is sitting alone.

Drinking alone.

The threats, they started after Barba indicted the three cops who shot Terrence Reynolds.

It occurs to Sonny that a bar crawling with cops is not the best place for Barba to be in right now.

It’s not the safest place.

It would be, for anyone else, but not for Barba.

Cops don’t like Barba very much.

Sonny does.

Sonny likes Barba.

Very much.

Sonny loves Barba.

Sonny needs to apologize.

Unlike Barba, Sonny always apologizes.

Sonny has given Barba a real reason to be mad for a change, and that happens too, every now and then. Usually it’s an innocuous comment that gets taken out of context, because Sonny’s phrasing tends to lack refinement, and the misunderstanding is easily resolved.

Sometimes, though, Sonny can be wrong. And then Barba gets mad, and Sonny tries to apologize, but that’s hard to do when Barba stops returning his calls.

On the odd occasion, Barba even kicks Sonny out.

Not in so many words, of course.

Barba just stops inviting Sonny over.

Barba just stops making concrete plans, even though normally he’s always the one who wants to share his Google calendar with Sonny so they can arrange their dates more efficiently.

Barba just mutters a curt, ‘See you,’ and waits for Sonny to take the hint and leave.

It only ever happens after they’ve made love.

That’s the ridiculous part.

Barba only does that the morning after.

Barba has never kicked Sonny out in the middle of an argument.

In the middle of the night.

Barba loves Sonny too.

When he gets mad, he acts normal. They go through their usual routine of dinner, and cable news, and sex, and sleep, except the sex is a little more rushed than usual. That’s the only indication anything’s wrong. And then Sonny wakes up, and Barba won’t kiss him good morning, and that’s how Sonny knows he’ll be in the doghouse for the next few days.

Well, that’s not happening this time.

They don’t have the luxury of waiting.

Not when someone’s out there threatening to kill Barba.

This is not the time for a stupid fight.

Sonny steps closer.

Barba hasn’t seen him yet.

Barba is sitting at the bar, alone, the seats on either side of him empty. Like no one wants to go near him.

Sonny steps even closer.

Barba isn’t wearing his jacket anymore. It’s just the vest now, and the silver tie is loose around his neck, and the top button on his shirt is undone, and this brings back memories for Sonny.

After the Rudnick case, after it was all said and done, Barba asked Sonny out.

They were in Barba’s office discussing the trial. Barba had generously, not to mention uncharacteristically, offered to answer some of Sonny’s questions. Maybe as a treat, because Sonny did a good job. Or maybe as a thank you, because Sonny tried to offer some comfort.

‘Now’s your chance, Carisi,’ Barba said.

‘Ask me anything,’ he said.

Barba’s tie, it was silver that night, too.

The suit wasn’t black. It was dark grey, or charcoal maybe, Sonny isn’t sure. Sonny is terrible with colors.

But Sonny is _sure_ Barba’s tie was silver.

Sonny is sure, because the entire time his eyes were focused on Barba’s neck. Sonny kept watching as Barba kept tugging at his tie, as Barba’s fingers kept fiddling with the shirt buttons, undoing them almost teasingly, Sonny kept watching in hopes of seeing a little more skin, and Sonny is sure Barba’s tie was silver.

They were sitting on the big leather couch.

Together.

For once, Barba wasn’t sitting behind his desk, the expensive wood always a barrier between him and Sonny.

For once, they were sitting together.

Barba’s hands were restless, the ice cubes clinking in his tumbler.

Barba was staring at Sonny’s lips.

Sonny doesn’t remember what he asked Barba.

If he even asked anything.

He just remembers that Barba asked him out.

‘Let’s go somewhere,’ Barba said.

‘For a drink,’ he said.

‘I could sure use one,’ he said.

‘Come with me,’ he said.

Sonny did not point out that Barba already had a drink in his hand, plus a fully stocked bar in the cabinet right next to them.

Sonny just nodded.

They went to a cop bar, just like this one, because it was close by.

They didn’t sleep together that night.

That was the weird part.

Barba’s invitation, that sultry, ‘Come with me,’ that was clearly a pick-up line. Sonny knew that, and he was perfectly willing to be picked up.

Sonny had impressed Barba, and they’d just wrapped up a complicated case, and deep down Sonny thought the ensuing sex was meant to be his reward.

A treat.

A roll in the hay for a job well done.

Sonny was perfectly fine with that.

Except all they did at that bar was spend the next three hours drinking and talking.

And touching, but only in passing.

They talked about the case. They talked about somebody like Rudnick, who was supposed to be one of the good guys, turning out to be a criminal, and ain’t _that_ timely. They talked about Sonny’s plans after law school, they talked about Sonny’s niece when Barba asked how Bella was doing, they talked about Barba’s last vacation when Sonny asked about his tan.

And then, before Sonny knew it, Barba was putting on his coat and saying, ‘You’re actually good company, Sonny. Who’d have thought? Let’s do this again.’

‘Sonny.’

Just like that.

Sonny didn’t even have to ask.

They parted with a tight nod from Barba and a dumb, smitten smile from Sonny.

They didn’t even kiss.

At the end of the night, they didn’t even kiss.

They just made plans for another date, at Barba’s urging.

Not even a date.

Another conversation.

They had a few of those, they had several conversations over a period of several weeks.

Sometimes at random bars, both of them buzzed and loose, and sometimes at quiet restaurants, both of them sober and a little more reserved.

Sometimes after bad days, both of them subdued and trying to cheer each other up, and sometimes after good days, both of them upbeat and in the mood to celebrate.

They kept making plans.

Sonny kept waiting for Barba to make a move, but it wasn’t happening.

Sonny was beginning to think Barba had either changed his mind, or he had never intended for their meet-ups to be real dates in the first place.

In truth, Sonny wasn’t that torn up about it.

That part was even weirder.

Despite Sonny’s feelings, despite him getting his hopes up after their little string of non-date dates, Sonny was perfectly content to keep things friendly. Barba could use some friends. Barba could use some support, and Sonny was more than happy to provide it.

Sonny practically gave up hope for anything more.

And then Barba leaned in and kissed him.

At an intimate little table, in a bar far from the precinct, far from the DA’s office, far from where anyone might recognize them, Barba leaned in and kissed him, and Sonny saw stars.

Barba smiled afterwards.

That was the best part.

The smile.

It wasn’t a smirk.

It was a real smile.

Barba blinked, slowly, and he smiled, brightly, and Sonny’s heart started pounding.

Barba’s hand found its way to Sonny’s forearm, Sonny’s shirt sleeves rolled up as always. Barba’s fingers were delicate, thumb lightly teasing the faint hairs near Sonny’s wrist, fingertips idly tracing Sonny’s veins, and Sonny tried not to die of asphyxiation because Barba’s soft hands and Barba’s soft lips and Barba’s soft eyes were making it extremely hard to breath.

Barba took him home that night.

Sonny remembers thinking he was going to come every time they made eye contact.

That was over a year ago.

A year and three months. Almost four, now.

Their first time.

Their first kiss, at a bar not too different from the one they’re in right now.

The circumstances are very different, of course.

They won’t be kissing this time, not in a crowded cop bar where people have gathered to mourn.

Sonny feels guilty for reliving his happy memories at a time like this.

These past few days, ever since he found out about the threats, Sonny has been finding it increasingly difficult to shut off the part of his brain that’s flooding his head with memories.

Sonny thinks it’s because he’s afraid.

Sonny approaches Barba cautiously.

Barba looks preoccupied. Lost in thought, to the point where Sonny almost reconsiders walking up to him, because maybe Barba just wants to be left alone.

Barba is frowning, the lines on his face deep, deeper than usual, and he’s looking down into his glass, probably because he doesn’t want to catch anyone’s eye, because every pair of eyes in that bar is hostile.

Sonny misses him.

Sonny is standing right behind him, but Barba doesn’t notice.

“Mind if I take a seat, counselor?”

Barba is startled.

Barba turns around, looks up.

Barba smiles.

Just for a second.

That’s what Sonny does.

He makes Barba smile.

Sonny doesn’t mean to use a post-funeral reception as the setting for his and Barba’s romantic little reunion.

Sonny can see Mike’s devastated loved ones, he can hear the intermittent wails of Mike’s fiancée, and Sonny actually has the nerve to feel happy because Barba smiled at him.

Sonny feels guilty as hell, but he can’t help it.

Sonny missed Barba’s smile.

“Be my guest, Carisi.”

Barba calls him Carisi.

They’re in public.

Sonny takes a seat, right next to Barba, and motions to the bartender for a couple of shots.

Barba isn’t smiling anymore, but he’s no longer frowning, either.

Sonny is itching to touch him.

That’s not going to happen.

They’re in public, and Sonny can’t touch Barba, even though they’re sitting so close. Even though their hands are only inches apart, where they rest next to their glasses. Even though all it would take would be for Sonny to move his fingers _just_ a little to the right, and he’d be brushing Barba’s knuckles.

They’re in public, in a bar full of observant cops, and maybe they’re all too grief-stricken to pay attention, but some of them may still be keeping a close eye on Barba, and Sonny doesn’t want to risk it.

Doesn’t want to risk blowing their cover.

Sonny doesn’t touch.

He just looks at Barba.

Their fight, it’s long forgotten.

It’s clear in the way Barba looks back at him.

“Are you ok-”

“Are you okay?”

They speak at the same time.

They both smile.

They’re both worried.

“Has Heredio been by again? Any more hang-ups? Any texts?”

Barba’s lips curl upwards. Probably because he suspects Sonny already knows the answer to those questions. Probably because he assumes Sonny is getting daily updates on his status.

The updates, they’re hourly, but Barba doesn’t need to know that.

Barba shakes his head.

“No. Nothing. Were you there when he got shot?”

Barba nods towards the picture of Dodds that’s in the middle of the bar. Sonny can’t skim over it this time. This time, Sonny looks.

It hurts to see Mike’s face.

“No. I got there right after. He was already on his way to the hospital.”

Barba nods.

“Were you there when he died?”

Sonny winces.

“Yeah. We all were.”

That’s all Sonny can say. He doesn’t want to talk about that white corridor, he doesn’t want to talk about Liv’s face, about Amanda’s tears. About Mike’s father, going from cheery denial to absolute devastation in the blink of an eye.

It hurts.

Barba nods again.

“So are you okay, S… Carisi?”

Barba almost slips.

Sonny wants to tell him.

There’s one other thing that’s been on Sonny’s mind, and he doesn’t know if he should call it survivor’s guilt or what, but maybe saying it out loud will help.

“I guess. I guess I’m okay. I, um. Did you know I almost went with the Lieu? To Munson’s house? Instead of Dodds? I offered. Fin offered, too. Dodds only went with her ‘cause he outranked us.”

_‘It could have been me.’_

That’s what Sonny doesn’t say.

Barba seems to hear it anyway.

Barba falls silent.

Their shot glasses are sitting untouched.

Saying out loud, it didn’t help much. Not Sonny, and definitely not Barba. It just made Barba feel worse.

Sonny needs to make him feel better.

That’s what Sonny does.

“Counselor, just… just so you know. We haven’t arrested Heredio yet, but we have units posted on his block.”

Barba smiles.

That’s what Sonny does.

“I’m not worried.”

Barba’s voice is low.

His eyes are bright.

Barba likes it when Sonny worries about him.

Barba likes knowing that Sonny cares.

Knowing that Sonny loves him.

Not that they’ve said the words.

They don’t have to.

“Not in here.”

Sonny isn’t so sure about that. Half the people in that bar would probably cheer if they saw Barba’s obituary in the paper.

Still.

People like Heredio, they’ll know better than try to approach their target at a bar full of cops, so Barba probably has a point.

Barba finally reaches for his shot glass.

Sonny reaches too.

Their hands are so close.

“Cheers.”

They don’t touch.

They just down their shots and Sonny excuses himself.

Sonny really needs to pay his respects, he really needs to go sit with the others, he really needs to see Liv, to see if she needs anything, to see if she’s alright.

Barba seems to be holding up okay, at least.

That’s something.

That’s everything, to Sonny.

But right now, he needs to be with the squad.

They need to band together, after their loss. They need to regroup. To get used to this new configuration of Manhattan SVU. The one without Dodds. Dodds was leaving, anyway. They had all prepared for that. For maybe pulling longer hours or picking up a bigger case load. They had all prepared for Mike being gone, but now he’s really gone, and it’s not the same.

Sonny sits with them, with Amanda and Fin and Liv, for almost two hours.

It strikes him, how different their reactions are.

Liv is beating herself up for being there and not preventing Mike’s death. At least she looks a little better than she did right after it happened. Sonny doesn’t know if she still blames herself directly, but it’s clear she still feels responsible for losing a member of her squad. Someone whose life she had been entrusted with. Sonny can’t imagine that burden.

She keeps leaving their table, to go check on Mike’s father. Sonny admires her. He was only able to mutter a quick, ‘Sorry for your loss,’ and then he had to practically scuttle away, because Deputy Chief Dodds started thanking him for donating blood, ‘for Mike,’ and Sonny didn’t want to burst into tears right then and there. He doesn’t know how Liv stays, for minutes at a time. He doesn’t know how Liv can handle seeing the pain on that man’s face.

Fin is wistful. He’s had a long career, the longest out of all of them, and he’s lost people, friends, cops, he’s lost partners, sometimes to bullets and sometimes to retirement, and he’s the only one who seems to be taking it better. He’s the one with the most experience in loss.

Still, Fin is regretful. For always giving Mike a hard time. For always keeping his distance.  He says as much, Fin says he resented Dodds for taking the Sergeant’s spot, even though Fin himself never even applied for the exam. Dodds did nothing wrong, he says. Dodds never did nothing wrong.

Amanda is taking it hard. Harder than Sonny expected. She keeps wiping her eyes. Sometimes she smiles as she hears a story about Mike, sometimes she adds a story of her own, but most of the time she stays silent. Mourning. Sonny didn’t even know she liked Dodds.

She says she didn’t. Not at first. Amanda says she used to hate him, the daddy’s boy who rose up the ranks on his name alone. She says she grew to like him. A lot. That’s Amanda, right there. All in or all out. Dodds was a good guy, she says. She says he deserved better.

They all nod and raise their glasses.

It’s time for the toast.

Sonny takes a swig of his beer.

Sonny wishes Mike had said yes, just once, when Sonny invited him out to dinner with the squad, or for drinks on a random weeknight. Sonny stopped asking eventually, and he regrets it now. Sonny wishes he had kept trying.

Sonny liked Mike.

Dodds.

The Sarge.

Sonny liked him. Sonny wishes he had made more of an effort to get the Sarge to feel more at home. Sonny thinks he gave up too soon. Sonny wishes he knew more about Mike, Sonny wishes he had met Mike’s fiancée under happier circumstances, Sonny wishes Mike were still alive.

Sonny wishes he could stop glancing over at Barba every few minutes, but he can’t.

Barba is still drinking alone. Nobody else has joined him, not even for a few minutes. Not even Liv, but Sonny doesn’t blame her. Mike’s father is her main priority.

Sonny’s main priority is Barba.

Sonny has been sitting with the squad for two hours, he’s left Barba alone for two whole hours, and he wants to go back.

Sonny wants to sit with Barba again.

He knows it might look suspicious, but the bar has pretty much cleared out. Most of the hangers-on left right after putting in an appearance for Deputy Chief Dodds’s sake.

It’s mostly the SVU people left now, the detectives and the unis, The ones who actually knew Mike. The ones who know Sonny, and how he has a soft spot for Barba, though thankfully they don’t know _how_ soft. Sonny doesn’t think it would look too weird if he sat down with Barba for another drink. Not to them.

Sonny gets up.

No one asks him where he’s going. They just keep talking about Mike while Sonny walks away. Sonny smiles, as Fin starts telling a story about Mike challenging him to go a few rounds in the ring.

A few heads turn as Sonny approaches Barba again. Sonny instantly gets anxious, defensive, even though they’re cops, because you can never be too safe, until he realizes they’re Barba’s security detail. Sitting at a corner table, glasses of what has to be soda in front of them, they look bored out of their skulls. They get back to their conversation as soon as they see there’s no threat. As soon as they see it’s just Sonny.

Sonny keeps smiling.

“Hey.”

Barba looks up again.

He smiles.

Again.

“Back so soon, Carisi?”

Sonny isn’t sure if Barba is teasing him for coming back, or scolding him for staying away too long.

“You know, people are going to notice. That I’m not drinking alone.”

Sonny still doesn’t get it. He’s having trouble reading Barba, for some reason.

“I don’t care, counselor. Are you alr-”

 _“Clearly_ you don’t care, detective. You’re supposed to keep up appearances. No one else has sat on that stool this entire time. You’re the only one. Twice, now. ‘Cause you came back. Couldn’t stay away. You should be more careful. You’re a cop. You’re supposed to hate me.”

Barba’s smile, it’s sweeter than usual. It’s way more mellow.

Sonny quickly understands why he can’t decipher Barba’s expression.

Barba is considerably more intoxicated this time aroun-

“Who do you think would come to my funeral? Not ‘cause they had to. Not ‘cause I’m a Manhattan ADA. Who do you think would come because they’d genuinely miss me?”

Sonny blinks.

This is not a question he can handle right n-

“I mean, look at Dodds. You saw how many people showed up. Most of them probably never even met him. And those who did, they probably didn’t give a shit about him. And I’m putting myself in that category too, by the way.”

Sonny sighs. He doesn’t know what to s-

“You’re the only ones who cared about Dodds. The squad. Liv. Everybody else? They just wanted to kiss his father’s ass. They all lined up to pay their respects, so Daddy Dodds will remember them next time there’s an opening for a Captain’s job.

“You know, this is exactly what it’s going to be like at my funeral. People will flock to it, so they can suck up to the DA. Because Roselyn favors me, for some reason, over all the other ADAs. Despite everything. Anybody else, and they would have fired me. Or reassigned me. Or told me to turn a blind eye. Roselyn doesn’t. She lets me do what’s right. So when I get killed, people are gonna line up to greet her, probably hoping to get my job, ‘cause there’ll be a vacancy after my grisly demis-”

“Okay. Alright, Barba. That’s enough. I get it.”

Sonny can’t hear this.

Not right now.

Not when th-

“You give a shit about me, Sonny. Don’t you?”

It occurs to Sonny that this is the closest they’ve ever gotten to directly talking about their feelings, in over a year.

Barba, asking if Sonny gives a shit.

Sonny would laugh.

He can’t.

“You know I do, _Barba.”_

Sonny tries to put emphasis on that last word, on ‘Barba,’ so there aren’t any more slip-ups, so Barba doesn’t call him Sonny again, so they don’t g-

“I know. You’ll miss me. I know that, Sonny. When I die, you’re gonna feel enough real pain to make up for everybody else’s fake grief. For their fake tears, for th-”

Sonny can feel his left eye twitching.

“Stop. Stop, okay? You’re drunk. You’re done talkin’. You should get out of here. You good to go home?”

Barba smiles again.

Barba likes it when Sonny worries about him.

“I should hope so, Sonny. I have a four-person detail, including my very own driver.”

Sonny surreptitiously looks around, to see if anybody’s noticing that Barba keeps calling him by his first name.

No one seems to care.

“Yeah? That why you’ve been drinkin’ so much, counselor? ‘Cause you got a designated driver, courtesy of the NYPD and paid for by US tax dollars?”

Barba chuckles.

“Beats getting an Uber.”

Sonny grins.

It seems that Barba, in his drunken state, has moved on from morbid thoughts to stupid jokes.

That’s better.

That’s a relief.

Less of a relief is Barba’s come-hither smile.

It seems that Barba, in his drunken state, is about to move on from stupid jokes to flirty come-ons.

Barba is smiling, and he looks smitten, and it’s a good thing no one’s watching them because the more Barba drinks, the more obvious he get-

“Why don’t you drive me home, detective? Stay over, maybe? Keep me safe?”

There it is.

Barba is flirting.

Sonny would be lying if he said he didn’t like this blowsier version of Barba, but they can’t be doing this in public.

“You said it, Barba. You got a security detail. It’s their job to drive you home. We should let them do it. I’m sure they don’t want me getting in their way.”

Even as he’s saying it, Sonny knows that’s not true. He glances over at the four bored cops, a few feet away. They look like they’d rather be anywhere else.

Barba knows it too.

“Please. They would thank you. They hate me. All cops hate me. Except you. They keep giving me dirty looks. I don’t trust them.”

Sonny frowns.

Barba may be drunk, but he may also be onto something.

Barba’s security detail, they’re supposed to be good police. Fin has a guy at Threat Assessment, and he vouched for all of them. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Sonny needs to look into this.

“Dirty looks how? Has anybody said anything to you? Do you want me to check them out?”

“No, thank you, Sonny. You’re only allowed to check _me_ out.”

What…

“Are you seriously makin’ drunken puns right now? Terrible ones?”

Barba scoffs.

“All puns are terrible puns, Sonny. I’m just trying to stoop to your level. You’re welcome.”

Sonny finds it easier to laugh this time.

“Thank you, counselor. I appreciate your efforts. Now, let’s get you home.”

“Come with me.”

Barba is using that same sultry voice again, and he’s staring at Sonny’s lips again, and his fingers are inching perilously closer to Sonny’s wrist.

Sonny pulls his hand away.

“Can’t. We can’t shake your detail, and it’ll be suspicious if I ask to relieve them. Plus there’s cruisers stationed outside your apartment. They can’t see me. We can’t let them get wind of this. Of us.”

“Us? What does that mean? There is no ‘us’. This is nothing. We’re just colleagues. I’m just inviting you to my place for a nightcap.”

Sonny would find this somewhat hurtful, except Barba is actually trying to wink.

And failing.

Sonny loves Barba.

“It’s six o’clock, counselor.”

Barba shrugs.

“So what? Come with me.”

Sonny smirks.

“Go home, Barb-”

“Not like that. I don’t mean it like that, Sonny. You don’t even have to come up. Just… Come by to check out the premises. Make sure it’s safe. Make sure everybody’s where they’re supposed to be. Make sure they haven’t abandoned their posts in favor of the pastry shop across the street.”

Sonny isn’t sure if Barba is genuinely concerned about the efficiency of his security team, or if he’s trying to swindle Sonny into getting that nightcap after all.

In the spirit of vigilance, Sonny decides to acquiesce.

“Fine. I’ll drive you. Your detail can follow us in their sedan.”

Barba grins.

It appears that Sonny just got swindled.

Sonny looks over at the squad’s table. He considers telling Liv he’ll be driving Barba home, but he decides against it. She has other things on her mind right now. She cares about Barba too, and she wants him safe, and he will be safe with Sonny, and that’s all that matters. Liv doesn’t have to know the specifics.

Sonny leaves her to her grief.

Sonny gets up and waits for Barba to do the same. Sonny waits as Barba slowly and clumsily puts on his jacket and then his coat.

As soon as Barba gets up, the four bored cops spring to their feet and come closer.

The good thing is they’re paying attention.

The bad thing is that Sonny’s going to have to explain.

“Listen, guys, I’m gonna drive him home. He’s had a few and he’s bein’ rowdy. But I know him. I can handle him. It’ll be easier if I do it. You just follow my car, make sure he gets home in one piece. Can’t be too careful.”

Three of the cops look to the fourth. She’s the one in charge, the one that’s been giving Sonny the hourly updates.

Sonny thinks she knows.

“You sure, Carisi? It’s not too much of a hassle?”

She’s smirking.

She definitely knows.

“Yeah, Rodriguez, I’m sure. It’s not a problem.”

A few more heads turn during this exchange, and Sonny hears murmuring. Sonny hears someone muttering, ‘I’ll bet,’ and someone else coughing out, ‘Kiss-ass.’

Derision.

Contempt, from his fellow officers, because Sonny actually gives a shit about the ADA who dares to prosecute bad cops.

It’s nothing Sonny isn’t used to.

Sonny turns to Barba again.

“Come on. I’ll drive you home.”

Barba frowns.

“You just said that, S-”

“Yeah, I wasn’t sure you heard me. Let’s go, _Barba.”_

Sonny has to keep trying to remind Barba they’re not supposed to be on a first-name basis.

“Right. Yes. Of course I heard you, Carisi. I’m drunk, not deaf. Let’s go.”

Good.

Barba seems to have gotten it together, if only a little.

Sonny leads him outside.

It’s a struggle not to put a hand on the small of Barba’s back as they walk.

As soon as they get in the car, Barba reaches and grabs Sonny’s hand.

Squeezes the hell out of Sonny’s fingers.

Their hands are hidden from outside view.

They can touch now.

Barba is holding Sonny’s hand.

Barba loves Sonny.

They look at each other for a second, for a few seconds, in silence, and Sonny starts the car.

 

* * *

 

It doesn’t take them long to get to Barba’s place.

Sonny drives past three patrol cars, parked all over Barba’s block. The police presence is visible on purpose, so no one tries anything.

Sonny is about to park when Barba reaches for his elbow.

“Come up.”

Of course.

Sonny pulls his elbow away. He needs it for driving.

“Can’t.”

“Sure you can, Sonny. Just come up. Just for a minute.”

Barba starts running his fingers up and down Sonny’s arm.

“Don’t be getting any ideas, counselor. We can’t do anything. Your security detail will know. They’ve been keeping track of everybody who comes in and out of your apartment.”

_‘I know because I get a copy of that list at the end of every workday.’_

That’s what Sonny doesn’t say.

“Yes, Sonny. I know. _Everybody_ who has come to my apartment in the past few days. Namely, Carmen, and Linda my house cleaner, and the pizza delivery guy. My social life is thriving. Come on. Come up. Please.”

Dammit.

Barba is pouting.

Tugging at Sonny’s sleeve.

Sonny can’t say no.

“Fine. I’ll come up to… to check out your apartment. Just for two minutes. Nothing’s gonna happen. I’m gonna take you up and then go home. Deal?”

“Deal. Yes. Good.”

Barba is grinning.

Barba looks happy.

Barba is drunk.

Sonny loves him.

Sonny parks the car and helps Barba out. Rodriguez honks from behind them, to indicate that her crack four-person team will be taking off, leaving the unis in charge of Barba’s security for the night. She’ll be there first thing tomorrow to pick up Barba for work. Sonny knows her schedule by heart. Barba’s schedule.

They pass by the cruiser that’s parked right by the entrance of Barba’s building. Sonny nods to the two cops inside. They look bored, too. Sonny hopes nothing happens to change that.

Barba’s doorman lets them in with a smile.

He knows Sonny. It’s been over a year and Sonny practically lives there, and the doorman knows Sonny by name. Sonny has to stop himself before saying, ‘Hey, Bill.’ The cops in the cruiser might be close enough to overhear.

Fortunately, Bill doesn’t say anything either. Sonny is not surprised. According to Barba, Bill is the most discreet doorman on the Upper East Side.

They get upstairs.

Barba gives Sonny a suggestive look or three on the elevator, but thankfully he doesn’t try anything.

Not until they get to the door.

When they get to the door, Barba grabs the lapels of Sonny’s jacket and pulls, hard, going for a kiss. Sonny is glad the apartment next to Barba’s has been empty for a while.

Barba kisses him.

Sonny kisses back.

It’s been three days.

Sonny kisses back, he squeezes Barba’s shoulders, just for a minute, and he kisses back, and if he’s honest that’s the only reason he came up in the first place.

Still.

They can’t do this.

Several police officers saw Sonny going in, and it’s going to look bad if he doesn’t come back out immediately.

“Alright, that’s enough. That’s enough for tonight, we’ll t-”

“Relax, Sonny. It’s just a kiss.”

Sonny smirks.

It’s never just a kiss with Barba.

“Right, counselor. It’s just a k-”

“Come in.”

Sonny rolls his eyes.

Barba couldn’t keep up the ‘just a kiss’ charade for more than two seconds.

“I told you I can’t. It’ll look suspicious if I stay too long. Nobody knows about us.”

“Carmen knows.”

Sonny chuckles, both at the randomness of that response and at Barba’s self-satisfied expression.

It’s like Barba somehow thinks he won this argument, which only goes to show just how inebriated he really is.

“Yeah. You’re right. Carmen knows. And remember how you flipped out when she found out? You want an encore? ‘Cause I don’t.”

Barba scoffs. It looks ten times funnier now that he’s drunk.

“I was only mad for two minutes.”

More like two weeks, but Sonny doesn’t say that.

He just kisses Barba again, swiftly so Barba doesn’t get any more ideas, Sonny just kisses Barba goodbye and immediately pulls away, barely escaping Barba’s eager clutches.

“Okay. Go inside, drink plenty of water, eat somethin’ and get some rest. You still got any of that casserole I left for you the other day?”

Barba looks adorably guilty.

“No. I ate it.”

Sonny chuckles.

“Okay. Order in for tonight and tomorrow I’ll make you something, so you won’t have to cook. I’ll leave it with Carmen. Alright? See you in a few days.”

Sonny turns around t-

“What?”

Sonny turns back to see a visibly confused Barba.

“What do you mean a few days, Sonny? Aren’t you coming back tomorrow night?”

Oh.

Perhaps Barba hasn’t grasped the full extent of his predicament. That, or he has but he’s too drunk to remember.

“No. I’ll see you at work. I can’t be spending the night here, Barba. Not anymore. Not with all those cops posted outside. And you can’t come to my place either. You have to clear every location with your security detail, and you can’t exactly give them my address and say you’re coming by for an overnight visit.”

“Why not?”

“No one’s gonna believe you’re dropping by for a social call, counselor. Maybe we can get away with a working lunch. Once a week. Twice, maybe. At your office, since Carmen’s there to cover for us. It’s gotta be something that won’t raise any flags.”

Barba opens his mouth and closes it again.

A few times.

“But y… You can’t come here anymore?”

Barba is pouting again, and he looks sad, and Sonny knows that if Barba were sober he’d be smirking and telling Sonny to get lost, but still. Sonny feels bad for him.

“No. Not for a while. Not until this whole thing is over.”

Barba nods.

“Okay. So… So come in tonight. Right now. You’re already here. Just stay. I haven’t seen you in three days. Just… just for a few minutes. For an hour. Come in.”

Sonny smiles.

He’s agreed to everything so far, but he can’t agree to this.

It’s for Barba’s own good.

“How’s an hour gonna help, Barba?”

Just like that, Barba stops pouting.

“An hour is a _very_ long time, Sonny. And you know I can be quick.”

Sonny snorts.

“You braggin’ about being quick? That’s a new low, counselor.”

Barba scoffs drunkenly again.

“Whatever. Just come in.”

Barba starts pulling at Sonny’s sleeve again.

The harder he pulls, the harder it is for Sonny to resist.

Sonny really wants to go inside.

At the very least, they’ll be able to have a conversation sitting down, like normal people, instead of standing in front of a locked door.

The problem is, if Sonny does go inside, they’ll have more than just a conversation. Barba will get him to stay.

Sonny knows that.

That’s why he steps away, out of Barba’s reach, his dress blues slipping through Barba’s fingers.

They can’t do this.

Sonny needs to be blunt.

“Look, Barba. They can’t find out about this. You don’t need to be givin’ your enemies more leverage. You’re an important figure in the community. This could lead to blackmail. The last thing we need is for whoever’s trying to hurt you to find out one of your secrets. You know cops could be behind the threats. If just one of the unis downstairs blabs about my visit, the wrong people might hear.”

Barba stops trying to grab Sonny’s sleeve.

“That doesn’t matter.”

Sonny stares.

“Sure it does.”

Barba shakes his head.

“This isn’t a secret, Sonny. I’m not advertising it, but it’s not a secret.”

Sonny isn’t sure if Barba is talking about his sexuality or their relationship.

It’s probably the former. Barba’s sexuality seems to be more of an open secret. Their relationship, on the other hand, is pretty much top-secret.

Either way, Sonny doesn’t ask for clarification.

“Okay. It’s not a secret, but we should still be careful. Just until we figure out who’s after you. Alright?”

That idea doesn’t seem to sit well with Barba.

“So, what? You won’t come back here until you solve the case? What a reassuring thought. With your detective prowess, you should have this in the bag in about six months.”

Sonny winces.

Partly because of the diss, and partly because the idea of spending six months away from Barba causes him physical pain.

Sonny needs to lighten the mood.

“It’s not gonna take that long, Barba. Come on. Gimme some credit. It’ll be a few weeks, tops. It’ll be over before you know it. It’ll be fine. I’m sure you can live without hittin’ this for a couple of weeks, huh?”

Sonny wiggles his eyebrows.

Barba frowns.

“That’s not why I… That’s not… I don’t…”

Barba stops trying to finish that sentence.

Sonny regrets the stupid joke. Barba is too drunk for their usual banter.

“Hey, nobody wants to close this case more than I do, alright? I’m gonna fix this. I don’t want ya lookin’ over your shoulder indefinitely. I’m gonna figure out who hired Heredio, and I’m gonna get ‘em, and we’re gonna put this whole thing behind us. And then I’m gonna be here all the time, and you’re gonna get sick of me after about a week. Okay?”

Barba nods.

“Okay, Sonny.”

He doesn’t look convinced. He just looks tired.

“Okay. Uh. Hey, why don’t we get lunch tomorrow, instead of waiting? Liv saw you drinkin’. I can tell her I wanna check up on you, make sure you’re not too hungover to function. She’s worried about you too, she’ll go along with it. How ‘bout it?”

Barba manages a tired smile.

“Okay, Sonny.”

Sonny exhales.

This isn’t the way he wants to leave things with Barba.

“You know, it’s still early. I could cook something for you tonight, bring it by your office tomorrow. We can have a homemade lunch. What do you feel like havin’?”

Barba’s smile gets a little brighter.

“Surprise me.”

Sonny grins.

Barba is way too peculiar with his food. The fact he trusts Sonny with the cooking, that’s rare.

The fact he trusts Sonny at all.

“You got it. See you tomorrow, okay?”

Barba nods again and starts patting his pockets, looking for his keys. ~~~~

“Okay, Sonny. I, uh. Thanks. Thank you for driving me.”

Dammit.

Barba’s talking like Sonny’s just a concerned colleague who drove him home as a courtesy.

That’s not right.

Sonny loves Barba.

“You don’t have to thank me, Barba. I wasn’t doin’ you a favor. I was doin’ myself a favor. I brought you to your doorstep. Safe and sound. Now I can sleep easy.”

Barba stares.

Barba grabs Sonny again, for another kiss.

This kiss, it’s sloppier than the ones before, sloppier and sweeter, and softer, somehow, and Barba’s hands are on Sonny’s face, and Barba loves Sonny too.

They pull apart, minutes later, and Sonn-

“I’m glad it was Dodds.”

Sonny freezes.

Drunk or not, that’s not something Barba should ever say. Dodds went out a hero, Dodds gave his lif-

“I mean… What I _mean_ is, I’m glad it wasn’t you. I’m glad you didn’t go. With Liv. That day. I’m glad you didn’t go.”

Oh.

That’s…

“I’m glad I didn’t lose you.”

Sonny blinks.

Barba is staring again, eyes wide, frowning, face flushed from their kiss, and he didn’t say, ‘I’m glad you didn’t die,’ he said, ‘I’m glad I didn’t lose you.’

Like Barba has Sonny.

Like Sonny is Barba’s to lose.

He is.

Sonny wishes Barba weren’t drunk right now.

“Yeah, well, now we just gotta make sure I don’t lose you either, okay? Stick to your schedule. Don’t try to lose your security detail again.”

Barba lets out a surprised snort.

“You know about that?”

“Do I know that you tried to sneak out of Gianni’s last night, after you had dinner with the DA, and you only got caught ‘cause the back exit was right next to the ladies’ room, so Rodriguez ran into you on her way back to her table? Nope. Don’t know anything about it.”

Barba laughs.

That was a fun phone call.

Literally.

Sonny knows he should have gotten worried as Rodriguez recounted Barba’s antics, but the mental image of Barba stealthily attempting to flee a four-star restaurant and promptly getting busted was just too hilarious.

Less hilarious is the way Barba takes Sonny’s hand, and starts caressing his palm playfully.

“That’s on them. They should be paying more attention. It’s not my fault they can’t do their job.”

Their job shouldn’t have to involve chasing down runaway ADAs, but Sonny keeps that to himself.

“Point taken, counselor. But don’t go making their job even harder, okay? No more escape attempts. For my peace of mind.”

Barba smiles sweetly as he squeezes Sonny’s hand.

“Okay, Sonny. For you.”

Sonny bites his bottom lip.

He needs to leave.

Sonny needs to leave, or he’ll go inside, and he’ll stay, and people will know, and Sonny wants to do it anyway.

If only to tuck Barba in. To put a glass of water on his nightstand. To set the timer on the coffeemaker so Barba has a fresh pot tomorrow morning, ‘cause Sonny doesn’t think he’ll remember to do that, drunk as he is.

Dammit.

“I gotta go, okay, Barba? I’ve been up here too long. See you for lunch tomorrow. Goodn-”

“You won’t be wearing this uniform tomorrow.”

Barba drops Sonny’s hand and starts pulling at Sonny’s tie, feeling the fabric and humming.

It occurs to Sonny that this is the first time Barba has seen him in full uniform.

Barba seems to like it.

Barba starts touching the shiny buttons on Sonny’s jacket.

Sonny just polished them for Mike’s funeral. 

Sonny wishes Barba had never seen him in uniform.

“No. But I can put it on for ya, some other time. What do you say?”

The minute Sonny says that, he knows how callous it sounds.

Putting on his dress blues, the very same uniform he just wore at a funeral, the symbol which identifies him as one of New York’s finest, putting in on for Barba’s gratification.

It’s callous.

It doesn’t matter.

Sonny doesn’t want to associate his uniform with death. With loss. Sonny would prefer to remember Barba’s fingers caressing the black ribbon over his badge, instead of remembering the reason that ribbon is there.

That’s easier to live with.

Barba’s mischievous smile only reaffirms Sonny’s thoughts.

“Definitely. You should _definitely_ put this on for me. Soon. And don’t forget the hat.”

Sonny snorts.

“You liked the hat?”

Barba steps closer, his hands slipping under Sonny’s jacket, sliding lower to Sonny’s hips.

“I _loved_ it. By the way, you wouldn’t happen to have any thigh holsters, would you?”

Sonny keeps laughing.

It’s easier now.

“Nah. That’s not really standard issue for detectives. I got an ankle holster, though.”

Barba makes a face.

“No, thank you. Just the hat, then. _Just_ the hat.”

Sonny feels Barba’s hands tightening around his hips, and he’s ninety-nine percent sure Barba is picturing him buck naked with a hat on, and that seems like a good time for Sonny to get the hell out of there.

Sonny takes a step back.

“I’ll see what I can do, Barba. Goodnight.”

Barba’s hands drop to his sides.

“Goodnight.”

They look at each other awkwardly for a few seconds, Barba probably still hoping Sonny might come in, but slowly realizing that’s not going to happen. Eventually, Barba finally fishes out his keys and opens the door.

Sonny doesn’t move.

Sonny waits for him to get insid-

“Be careful, Sonny.”

Barba looks worried again.

Sonny’s heart is bursting.

Sonny loves Barba.

Sonny can’t stop thinking that.

Feeling that.

Sonny can only stop himself from saying it.

“I will. I’ll be careful. Don’t worry.”

Sonny waits until Barba locks the door.

Sonny calls the elevator.


	2. Bearable

Sonny is lugging a large reusable shopping bag as he enters the precinct.

He’s been on the road for a while, and it’s a hot day, and at least the pasta won’t spoil, but Sonny can’t say the same about the cheesecake. Sonny really needs to get everything in the fridge, otherwise Barba will have to endure a homemade lunch without the homemade dessert that goes with it.

Speaking of Barba, Sonny needs to call him. To confirm their lunch date. To see how Barba is holding up.

But first, to the fridge.

Sonny makes a beeline for the break room.

On any other morning, he’d be worried about raising suspicions. He’d be coming up with a cover story, saying the food is for Bella, and he’s dropping it off later to help her out. Or maybe he’d be saying his mother made it for him, and the others can’t have any ‘cause that’s Sonny’s dinner, and he needs it for sustenance, and if Amanda wants a home cooked meal she should consider learning how to cook.

This morning, no one even looks up when Sonny comes in.

He rearranges the contents of the fridge, careful not to touch the stash of Fin’s favorite sodas, and he manages to make some room for the cheesecake, plus the glass container that’s brimming with enough pasta peperonata to feed six people.

Sonny made extra, so Barba will have leftovers.

Sonny made enough to last, because he won’t be able to make dinner in Barba’s kitchen, with Barba watching and commenting, like he does every other night. They won’t be able to eat together on Barba’s couch, while watching TV, like they usually do, at least now that Barba trusts him not to spill. They won’t be able to spend the night together, like they always do, not for a while. Not for a few days. Or weeks. Not until the threats to Barba’s life are neutralized.

Sonny misses Barba already.

Sonny saw Barba last night, and they’ll be meeting for lunch in a few hours, and Sonny still misses Barba preemptively, because he knows it won’t be enough.

Because their daily routine is what makes Sonny happy, and they’ve lost that.

Sonny leaves the break room. The sooner he gets started on working Barba’s case, the sooner he can crack it.

The first thing Sonny sees, as he heads for his desk, is the poster for Mike’s going away party.

It’s still up.

Sonny is not surprised.

None of them has had the heart to take it down.

Sonny thinks he’s going to have to bite the bullet and do it himself.

It was his idea to make the poster, anyway.

It’s his responsibility.

Fin laughed when Sonny suggested it.

Fin laughed when he saw Sonny with a big piece of white cardboard and a whole bunch of color markers, all stolen from Gina who teaches elementary school. Sonny asked for some glitter markers, too, but Gina said, ‘Glitter for a cop’s going away party? Are ya sure that’s a good idea, Sonny?’

Sonny just thought glitter would be more festive.

He’s glad he listened to Gina now.

Fin laughed, but he still wrote a brief goodbye message when the poster was making the rounds at the precinct, going from desk to desk so everyone could add a few words. Dodds was supposed to take the poster with him, when he left.

_‘Good luck. Keep your eyes open.’_

That’s what Fin wrote.

Sonny starts blinking faster.

He wants to take the poster down now, before Liv gets there, because she hasn’t been back to the precinct since Mike’s death, and Sonny doesn’t want her to see it, first thing, as soon as she walks in.

Or Mike’s father.

He could walk in, any minute now.

He could see it.

_‘Good Luck, Sgt. Dodds.’_

Sonny went through two whole markers, writing that.

Luck.

Filling out the huge letters with color.

Red.

Sonny wasted an entire lunch break doing it.

Waste.

Sonny walks past Amanda as he approaches the poster.

She doesn’t acknowledge him at all.

She won’t even look at him.

She won’t look at anybody.

Sonny is glad Amanda has Jesse now. Sonny hopes that’ll help her get over this a little bit faster.

Sonny takes down the poster, careful not to rip it, and he has an urge to roll it up and keep it forever.

It’s just paper.

Sonny crumples it up and tosses it, and then he throws some scrunched up copier paper over it, so no one can see it’s there.

Sonny thinks the empty spot where the poster was is even more glaring.

“Liv wants to see you.”

Fin.

He’s sitting at his desk.

He looks numb.

They’re all numb.

And Liv is apparently in her office. She must’ve come in early, which means she already saw the poster.

Sonny exhales.

He straightens out his tie and knocks.

“Come in, Carisi. Close the door and take a seat.”

Oh.

Sonny does.

Liv looks better.

It’s a relief.

Her eyes are still a little dull, but she has a little smile on her face.

Sonny was going to ask her how she was feeling, but that little smile stops him. If she’s somehow found a way to forget about Mike, just for a second, he doesn’t want to remind her. Those seconds, those few seconds when they all forget about their loss, those seconds are precious.

And then they remember again.

“Morning, Lieu. What can I do for you?”

Liv keeps smiling.

“I just have some papers for you to sign.”

Sonny frowns.

The only case he’s worked on these past few days is Barba’s, and there’s no paperwork that still needs a signature. Sonny has made sure of it. Sonny has made sure to dot the i's and cross the t's because he wants the case to be airtight for when it goes to trial. There’s no room for slip-ups. Sonny wants to put Heredio and his bosses away for good.

Liv pushes some forms towards Sonny and hands him a pen.

“I haven’t filed these yet. I wanted to get your input first.”

Sonny’s frown deepens.

‘File?’

His ‘input?’

Sonny doesn’t understand, not until he looks at the documents.

Disclosure.

The documents, they’re the forms used by NYPD employees to disclose intimate relationships which might present a potential conflict of interest. And right under those documents, there are the disclosure forms used by the District Attorney’s office.

Sonny knows that, because he has a copy of this exact set of papers at home, hidden in the bottom of a drawer.

He has never actually dared to fill them out.

To sign them.

The papers in that drawer, they’re blank.

Sonny takes them out sometimes, just to look at them, but he hasn’t even dared to fill out his own name yet.

The papers he’s looking at right now, the one’s he’s holding in his hand, they’re completely filled out. All that’s missing is Sonny’s signature.

Barba’s signature is already there.

On these papers Liv just gave him.

Liv.

Liv knows.

Barba wants to disclose.

Barba never once talked to Sonny about this.

Clearly he talked to Liv.

Liv knows.

Liv knows about their relationship.

Sonny thinks his brain might be short-circuiting.

“From your reaction, Carisi, I’m going to assume Rafael did this without asking you first.”

Sonny is not sure how to respond, so he just stares, wide-eyed.

The smile on Liv’s face gets bigger.

Sonny’s panic subsides for a second, when he realizes _he_ is the reason Liv is smiling.

That feels good.

What doesn’t feel good is the fact Barba has somehow managed to keep yet another secret.

Then again, this one isn’t so bad.

Barba wants to disclose, which means he’s planning on sticking around, which means Barba loves Sonny, which Sonny already knew but th-

“Carisi?”

Sonny realizes he hasn’t said a word in several moments.

“Yeah, no. He didn’t. He didn’t ask me. Um.”

Not the most eloquent response, but Sonny is proud of himself for even managing to speak.

Liv is practically grinning now.

“Why am I not surprised? Listen, I’m happy for you. And I’m happy to be getting some good news, for a change.”

Sonny grins too, because he can tell Liv really means th-

“I mean, this wasn’t exactly news, but still. It’s something to smile about.”

Sonny’s grin dies on his face.

“What do you mean this wasn’t news?”

Liv actually chuckles.

Sonny would cherish the sight of a happy, laughing Liv, but he’s too busy freaking out.

“This wasn’t news to me, Carisi. Please. I’m offended you thought I didn’t know.”

Oh.

Sonny hopes he’s being paranoid, but it kinda sounds like Liv has known for a while.

“So, you, uh, you knew about this, Lieu? Before today?”

Liv almost chokes when she hears the word ‘today.’

Not paranoid, then.

“Well, I had my suspicions. Early on, I could see a mutual attraction, but I thought… No offense, Carisi, but I thought you were oblivious to it. And I thought Barba was too stubborn to make the first move, so I started pestering him. So to speak. I started talking you up. Trying to get him to see what a great guy you are.”

_Oh._

Sonny thinks he can hear birds singing.

Just when he didn’t think he could love Liv any mor-

“And then, one day, I guess Barba had enough of my meddling, so he told me I was too late. He said he _had_ made the first move, and he’d been dating you for three months already. Let me tell you, Carisi. _That_ was news.”

Sonny swallows hard.

Liv has known for an entire year.

Barba told her.

Voluntarily.

Carmen had to walk in on them kissing to find out, but Barba told Liv voluntarily.

Barba told Liv a _year_ ago.

Barba never told Sonny about that, either.

Sonny shakes his head.

He’s pretty sure he should be mad, but it’s hard when he’s looking at Barba’s fancy signature, right there on the dotted line.

Barba wants to disclose.

Barba loves him.

Sonny just has one question.

“Uh, Lieu, don’t get me wrong, but when Barba gave you these papers, did he look sober?”

Liv snorts.

“You know what, I didn’t actually see him in person. He sent these over with a courier, they arrived just before you came in. I _did_ get a somewhat… Let’s say a more _emotional_ phone call from him, late last night. But when he called me this morning, about an hour ago, to talk about this, he sounded perfectly sober. Hungover, but sober.”

That’s good enough for Sonny.

“Alright. I’ll s-”

“Wait. Let me make something clear, Carisi, especially since you didn’t know about the paperwork until a minute ago. Just because Rafael wants to disclose, it doesn’t mean you should automatically do it. You need to think about this. About what this could mean for you. Everyone knowing.

“I can personally guarantee you that no one here at Manhattan SVU will treat you differently, not on my watch, but unfortunately I can’t promise the same for the rest of the NYPD. So you should take your time, to really think this through, becaus-”

“Where do I sign?”

Liv stops talking.

She doesn’t need to elaborate any further. Sonny knows what she’s talking about.

Firsthand.

Liv looks at Sonny for a second, for two seconds, for three, and then she nods in approval.

Sonny loves that look. It makes him feel warm inside.

“You’re the lawyer, Carisi. You’re asking me?”

Sonny grabs the pen and quickly signs all the forms, his signature looking even blockier than usual next to Barba’s more ornamental handwriting, and Liv watches with a smile on her face, and it all feels weirdly formal and official and important.

Everyone will know.

Barba wants everyone to know.

“Okay. Now what?”

Liv rolls her eyes.

“Now you get back to work, Carisi.”

Sonny lets out a laugh.

“Right. Yeah. Of course. I’ll… I’m gonna go. Thanks, Lieu.”

Sonny is almost out the door when Liv speaks again.

“Just for the record, Carisi, and I’m not saying that Barba specifically asked me to tell you this, but after I send these signed forms to 1PP and the DA’s office, there’ll be nothing stopping you from going over to his place. For a _visit.”_

Sonny is glad he’s standing with his back to Liv.

He wonders if he can have the rest of this conversation just like that.

“Uh.”

“Threat Assessment and Barba’s security detail will be informed that he has a significant other. You’ll be on the official list of approved guests. So you’ll be cleared to, uh. To keep him company.”

With a great deal of effort, Sonny turns around. It sounds like Liv has a few more things to say, and Sonny thinks it’ll be disrespectful to make her say it while facing his ass.

“Oh. Okay. Good to know.”

Liv starts fiddling with her reading glasses.

Sonny thinks maybe this is a little awkward for her too.

“Look, Rafael has been having a hard time with these recent changes. The security detail is for his own good, but he hasn’t gotten used to it yet. Last night, on the phone, he told me he feels trapped. Stuck between work and his empty apartment. He told me he’s bored all the time.”

Sonny wishes Barba had told _him_ that.

Sonny regrets their stupid fight, now more than ever.

Barba was having a hard time, for three days, and Sonny never picked up the phone, because he was too embarrassed. Because he w-

“I’m sure you can help with that, Carisi. Right? I’m sure you can alleviate Rafael’s boredom.”

Sonny tries not to gape.

“You know. You can talk to him. Tell him about your day. You can make him a nice dinner. You guys can watch some TV. Maybe a movie. Right? There’s all kinds of wholesome activities you can both enjoy. Because, as far as I’m concerned, that’s _all_ you two are gonna be doing.”

Sonny is getting the sneaking suspicion Liv is messing with h-

“Wait, I got it. You could play Scrabble. That should help you kill some time. You know how competitive Rafael gets when he plays Scrabble. It’s like he forgets the world around him.”

Sonny doesn’t know that, actually.

He’s never played Scrabble with Barba.

Also, Liv is _definitely_ messing with him.

“Alright. We will. Thanks for the tip. I’m gonna…”

Sonny awkwardly points to the door, and Liv looks like she’s barely holding in a guffaw.

“You do that, Carisi.”

Sonny can hear Liv’s laughter as he leaves her office.

He has barely made it to his desk when he hears a commotion.

A few patrol cops are bringing in a suspect, and it sounds like he’s putting up a fight.

Sonny is about to get up and help, when he sees who the suspect is.

Heredio.

He looks just like his mugshot. Just like the video still they used to run the facial recognition software, from the security footage of him terrorizing Barba.

Sonny regrets watching that video.

Multiple times.

Sonny wishes he hadn’t seen Barba’s reaction. He knows Heredio didn’t see it, because Barba is a master of putting on a macho act, but Sonny did. Barba did not cower, and that made Sonny fiercely proud, but Sonny still saw his fear. It’s a hard image to shake.

It’s even harder now that Heredio is there in the flesh.

The man responsible.

Seeing him is making Sonny break into a sweat. It’s making Sonny’s fists clench unconsciously.

This is the man who threatened to kill Barba, and they’ve got him right there at the precinct, and Sonny can’t afford to lose his composure. There’s work to be done.

Heredio looks smug as hell as he struggles in his handcuffs.

Sonny is about to go get Liv, when she comes out of her office. She must have gotten a call about the arrest.

“Take him to Interview Two, guys.”

Amanda is already getting up.

Sonny is glad to see her looking more engaged.

More alive.

He figures she’s grateful for the distraction. Amanda is about to interrogate Heredio, and she knows all the details of Barba’s case, because Sonny briefed her on what she missed, and it was her guy at TARU that got the hit on Heredio in the first place, and she’s a great cop, and she’s going to do a great job.

Sonny still has to stop her.

Sonny has to talk to Heredio himself.

He has to.

He’s just not sure Liv will let him.

“Uh, Lieu, can I have a minute?”

Liv looks like she knows what Sonny is about to ask.

“Sure. Rollins, let’s keep Heredio waiting for now. I’ll let you know when to go in. In the meantime, call Barba and have him come down for the lineup.”

Amanda sighs and sits back down. Just like that, she looks detached again.

Lifeless.

She doesn’t say anything.

She just grabs the phone.

Sonny feels guilty, Sonny has spent the past four days feeling guilty, but he has to do this.

Liv steps aside, out of earshot, and motions for him to talk.

“Listen, Lieu, I gotta talk to Heredio. I gotta. I know there’s a conflict of interest now, I know I can’t work Barba’s case anymore, but I need t-”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Carisi. I don’t see a conflict. I told you, I haven’t filed anything yet. Not that there’s anything to file, of course. That said, I _am_ expecting some documents from ADA Barba that I’m gonna need you to sign. I will be receiving them in, say, fifteen minutes. When I do receive them, it’ll be a different story. In _fifteen minutes._ In the meantime, I see no reason why you can’t interrogate your suspect. This is your case.”

Sonny is immeasurably grateful.

“Thanks. Thank you, Lieu. Fifteen minutes. Thank you. I’ll be in and out.”

Liv nods and heads to Interview Two, to watch the interrogation from behind the mirror.

Sonny knows this is risky, he knows it’ll be a hard sell once the papers are actually filed, Sonny knows this might get Heredio’s statement thrown out, but he has to try.

Sonny just has to walk up to Amanda’s desk first, to let her know.

“Hey, Amanda, Liv says I can have a crack at Heredio first. Alone. That alright with you?”

Amanda shrugs.

She barely looks up.

She doesn’t know yet.

About Sonny and Barba.

Sonny has wanted to tell her for a while. She’s been joking about his ‘crush’ for ages. Sometimes Sonny thinks she knows, and she’s just playing coy to get him to admit it. The rest of the time, Sonny thinks Amanda is trying to goad him into asking Barba out.

Just like Liv.

And, since Barba told Liv, Sonny is going to tell Amanda.

Soon.

Before she finds out from somebody else. Before she hears the gossip.

Hell, Sonny almost wants to tell Amanda right then and there, just to cheer her up. She’s gonna get a big kick out of it, and Sonny knows she could use a good laugh.

Amanda is not okay.

Amanda is taking it hard, losing Dodds, and Sonny gets that, and he thinks the only reason he’s not as affected is because he’s worried about Barba.

Sonny _thinks_ he’s not as affected, and then he walks past Dodds’s desk.

It’s empty.

It’s empty, not because they cleared it out, but because Dodds, because _Mike_ had packed everything up already. Mike was leaving SVU, Mike was getting a transfer, Mike was getting married, Mike was happy, Mike had packed up his desk on his last day.

That’s the last thing Sonny remembers. Mike, putting everything in a large box, and taking off with Liv.

Going to Munson’s house.

Sonny is pretty sure that box is still in Mike’s locker.

He’s not going to check, of course.

Mike’s father will drop by the precinct, one of these days, when he’s ready, to ask for it. To ask for his son’s personal effects.

It’s too soon for that.

Sonny feels guilty for thinking it’s good Mike did the packing for them.

Sonny thanks God for that, because the empty desk means none of them will have to go through Mike’s belongings now that he’s gone.

Sonny doesn’t think he’d be able to handle that.

Barba’s desk isn’t empty.

They’d need at least two boxes to get everything out.

_Sonny_ would need at least two boxes.

For Barba’s personal affects.

Barba has so much stuff.

Sonny thinks about having to pack it all up.

The cheap bourbon that’s stashed in the bottom left drawer, Barba’s current case files that are neatly stacked in the top right drawer, the little trinkets Barba always has lying around all over his desk, that fancy leather coaster Barba uses for his coffee mugs, the nameplate that says, ‘A.D.A. Rafael Barba.’

Sonny wonders if that nameplate is state property or if he could keep it. Sonny thinks he would steal it, either way.

But it’s not just the desk.

Sonny thinks about having to clear out Barba’s entire office. Sonny thinks about having to fight Carmen for it, because she would want to do it, to honor her own relationship with Barba. All those hours they spent in that room. Sonny thinks Carmen would let him do it in the end, because she knows, she knows how Sonny feels, Carmen knows Sonny loves Barba.

Sonny thinks about having to pack up all of Barba’s books that barely fit on the bookshelves. Barba’s law degree from Harvard that’s hanging on the wall. Barba’s liquor cabinet that’s got better stuff in it than most high-end bars. Barba’s coffee mug collection. Barba’s extra shirts and ties that are stashed in a cabinet for emergencies. Sonny thinks about finding a way to remove that one leather armchair Barba bought and paid for himself, the one he likes to relax in, because the state-bought furniture weren’t to his taste.

Sonny thinks about going to Barba’s funeral, and feeling real pain, just like Barba said, Sonny thinks about Barba dying, if Heredio gets his way.

Sonny takes a deep breath.

This is _not_ what he should be thinking about, seconds before he goes in to interrogate Barba’s potential assassin.

Sonny needs to keep it together.

Sonny needs to stay calm, and see if he can’t get Heredio to lose his cool, to maybe reveal who’s been bankrolling Barba’s continued harassment.

Sonny takes another deep breath and enters the interrogation room.

Heredio still looks smug as ever. That’s nothing new.

What is new is Heredio’s lawyer.

She walks in, not a second after Sonny does.

Normally, this would be a problem. Sonny, having to deal with a defense attorney and waste precious time when he only has fifteen minutes.

In this case, it’s a good thing.

Sonny read Heredio’s file, and up until now Heredio has only ever used one defense attorney. A smalltime lawyer who, as far as Sonny can tell, exclusively represents gang members.

The defense attorney that’s sitting next to Heredio right now, she’s not exactly smalltime.

Sonny knows her. He definitely recognizes her face, and he thinks he remembers her name, too. It’s something German, something starting with a _K,_ like Krauss or Klein. 

She’s represented cops before.

Sonny is sure of it.

He remembers her from a police brutality case he observed on a day off, doing research for a paper when he was still in law school. She was outside counsel, when the NYPD’s lawyers wanted to settle but the overzealous cop wanted to fight the charges.

She lost that case, but she was good. Sonny remembers looking her up, he remembers finding her name on cases against patrol cops, mostly, and a few detectives, usually on charges of excessive force.

This is a good thing.

“Detective Carisi, is it? Marybeth Krauss. May I ask why you arrested my client this morning?”

Sonny was right.

It’s the same woman.

A lawyer who usually represents cops, and is suddenly representing a gang member.

Sonny needs to use this.

“By all means, counselor. So far, we got him on stalking in the third degree and aggravated harassment in the second degree. _So far.”_

She raises an eyebrow.

Heredio tries to speak, probably to deny the accusations, but she silences him with a move of her hand.

“And your evidence is?”

“Our evidence is the testimony of the victim, Assistant District Attorney Rafael Barba, who identified your client’s mugshot.”

Heredio actually speaks this time.

“Yeah, how’s your _friend_ Mr. Barba?”

Sonny tries not to show surprise.

The way Heredio says, ‘friend,’ it’s a little too pointed.

Sonny has to consider the possibility Heredio knows about him and Barba. The possibility Heredio has been stalking Barba for some time.

Maybe Heredio saw Barba going into Sonny’s building one time too many, or he saw Sonny leaving Barba’s place early in the morning. Maybe he followed them when they were out on a date. Heredio may have only shown his face twice, but no one knows how long he’d been lurking before actually making contact.

That’s an unsettling thought.

At least Barba decided to disclose, and Liv is about to file the papers any minute now, so this isn’t a secret anymore. Barba’s reputation is no longer at stake.

Sonny wonders if Heredio has told his lawyer about it, but she doesn’t seem to react to his tone. She just motions for Heredio to shut up again.

That’s no good.

Sonny needs to keep Heredio talking, and she’s making his job harder.

Sonny needs t-

“Testimony? And a mugshot? That’s all you have? Mr. Barba hasn’t even identified my client yet. Not technically. Not in person.”

Dammit.

“No, but we have video footage of your client cornering Mr. Barba in the elevator at the courthouse, which we used to get an ID via facial rec.”

“I’m assuming there is no audio on that footage, so all you have is two men on an elevator. Riveting. Also, facial recognition software is notoriously unreliable. You can’t hold my cl-”

“Yes we can, counselor. Mr. Barba is on his way here right now. We’ll get your client in for a lineup in a few minutes, and we’ll see what happens. We’ll see if we can’t get a positive ID then. _In person.”_

Krauss knows she can’t win this one.

Sonny hopes that’ll make her lose some of her confidence.

Maybe then he’ll be able to get Heredio to say more than three words.

On the bright side, Heredio seems just as frustrated by Krauss telling him to shut up every two minutes. He clearly wants to talk. He’s been eyeing his attorney angrily, ever since she shushed him with a dismissive gesture.

Sonny needs to use this too.

“Hear that, Felipe? Barba’s on his way, and once he makes the ID you’ll be arraigned. I hope whoever’s paying for your fancy lawyer will also pay to bail you out.”

“Don’t worry about me, detective. I got people who’ll take care of m-”

“Don’t talk unless I tell you to talk, Felipe. I’m your lawyer. You need to listen to me.”

Bingo.

Krauss played right into Sonny’s hand.

“You’re gonna let her speak for you, Felipe? You do that a lot? Letting women do the talkin’?”

Krauss shoots Sonny an unimpressed look.

Sonny is not surprised. His tactic is pretty transparent.

Fortunately, Heredio is just stupid enough to fall for it.

“Hell no, _detective._ I speak for myself. Ask your friend Barba. Ask him what I told him. Ask him if I needed anybody to speak for me in that elevator at the courthouse, when I had him shitting his pants.”

Krauss looks like she’s about to facepalm.

Sonny doesn’t let her interrupt.

“Yeah, he told us you scared him pretty good. Something about a bullet, comin’ for him? And how about the first time, at the courthouse? Something about cracking his skull open, right on those steps? That’s pretty badass, Felipe. If you were plannin’ on following through, that is. Or are you just talk?”

“My client will not resp-”

“I never said nothing about a bullet. I don’t know what you’re talking about, man.”

Sonny shrugs.

“That’s alright, Felipe. That’s not what I’m asking. I know what you said. Barba told us, and he’ll testify in court, and then it’ll be the word of a respected ADA versus the word of a career criminal. What I’m asking is, are you going down for this because you’re legitimately guilty, or are you the fall guy?”

Heredio licks his lips.

“I ain’t no fall guy.”

“Oh. So you _were_ gonna kill Barba. You’re not just a low level bruiser hired to threaten him, while your bosses hire a real killer to do the hit. Alright. Good to know. And here I thought they hired you ‘cause you were dumb enough to show your face to a New York prosecutor, on camera, when you got a criminal record a mile long, and we could ID you in a matter of hours. I thought your bosses wanted us to arrest you so they could pin the murder on you. Glad to know I was wrong.”

“There has been no murder, detect-”

“I know, Mrs. Krauss. See, that’s where the plan backfired. We arrested your client too soon. I’m guessin’ we were only supposed to pick up Felipe here after Barba got killed.

“Your bosses, Felipe, they were tying you up in a bow for us. We were gonna find the body, and then we’d find the footage of you threatening Barba, and we’d get a bunch of witnesses sayin’ they saw you outside the courthouse, and you’d go down for murder. Meanwhile, the real killer was gonna get the big bucks and get away with it. Because, unlike you, a real killer would know to cover his tracks.”

Heredio finally seems taken aback.

“I didn’t say that. I didn’t say any of that. I was never gonna kill anybody. They gave me two hundred and fifty bucks for every time I talked to Barba. They said all I had to d-”

“That’s enough, Felipe.”

Krauss again.

Sonny nods.

It’s okay. They’re getting somewhere, even with her constant interruptions.

It’s becoming clear that Heredio never actually intended to hurt Barba. He was just hired to make threats. Sonny just needs to know if someone else was hired to do some real damage.

“Alright. Two hundred and fifty bucks, every time you talked to Barba. I get it. You did it for the money. Problem is, now you’re sitting in a police station, about to be arraigned, and you’ve violated the terms of your parole, so you’re going back to prison regardless, and whoever hired you is sitting pretty, without a care in the world. You think that’s right?”

“It wasn’t just the money. It’s personal. Your _friend_ Mr. Barba, he put away my brother three years ago. I would’ve scared the shit out of him for free. I told them that, when I got hired to do this, I told th-”

_“Enough,_ Felipe.”

Dammit.

So close.

“I see your fancy new lawyer knows to protect her employers. They hired her too, right? Just like you? Same people? Speakin’ of, I’m sure you know that Mrs. Krauss here usually works for cops. Like the ones who hired you, maybe. Huh? And now, all of a sudden, she’s representing a BX9 Lieutenant. You don’t think that’s weird?

“You think she’s here to help you, Felipe? She’s gonna drop you, first chance she gets. She’s just here to make sure you don’t give up your bosses. Even though that’s your best play.”

Heredio side-eyes his attorney. It’s clear he doesn’t know if he can trust her.

Heredio is stupid, but he’s not that stupid. He knows Sonny is right.

Sonny needs to go in for the kill.

“Listen. You made a direct threat against a New York ADA. His friends at the DA’s office aren’t gonna let that slide. They don’t like it when somebody threatens their own. And at this point, since we don’t know who hired you, you’re the only one they can charge. They’re gonna throw the book at you.

“Let me break it down for you, Felipe. You got a criminal record, you just admitted you had a personal motive to kill Barba ‘cause of your brother, we found three unregistered firearms when we searched your place, and we already got proof you were stalking him.

“You know what that adds up to? Attempted murder. You took direct steps towards killing Barba. You followed him around to learn his schedule, and you expressed your intent to kill him, and you illegally purchased a gun you were gonna use to do the hit.

“That’s what the DA is gonna say. You’re gonna go down for this. For two hundred and fifty bucks. You think that’s worth it?”

Krauss stays silent. Like this isn’t worth her time. She knows attempted murder is a stretch.

Heredio does not.

Heredio looks agitated.

“Look, man, I told you. I got hired to scare Barba. I don’t do hits. I’m not the one you should be worrying about. You should be worrying about the people my bosses hired to finish the job. Those are some _bad_ people. Real killers. You said it.”

Sonny feels like throwing up.

All this talk of Barba’s potential murder, all in the interest of getting Heredio to talk, it’s making Sonny nauseous.

He tries not to show it.

“Wait a minute, are you telling me you’re aware of a murder plot against Mr. Barba? Aware how? Are you part of it? Do you know who your bosses hired? Did you broker the deal, maybe? Did you hook them up with a couple of enforcers from BX9? ‘Cause if that’s what you’re saying, Felipe, that’s conspiracy to commit murder, and you just confessed to it. The DA’s office is gonna _love_ that. That’s a Class B felony, by the way. It could get you 25 years.”

Heredio looks to his attorney, who nods to confirm Sonny’s words.

Heredio looks rattled.

He starts talking before Krauss can stop him.

Finally.

“I didn’t say that. I don’t know if they hired anybody. I don’t even know if they really wanna kill Barba. I just did what they told me. They told me to say all that stuff about killing him, pushing him down the stairs, all that stuff to scare him. They told me. That didn’t come from me. They told me what to say.”

Well.

That’s a confession, right there. Even without Barba’s ID, they got Heredio on stalking and harassment.

Sonny exhales.

Sonny feels a measure of relief.

It seems that Heredio was just talking out of his ass, when he mentioned ‘real killers,’ using Sonny’s own words for effect. Heredio doesn’t know anything. There’s no hitman out to kill Barba.

That’s what Sonny needs to tell himself.

“Alright. So your bosses told you what to say. That’s good. What did they tell you, exactl-”

“My client is speaking hypothetically, detective. He hasn’t actually confessed to an-”

Sonny can’t let Krauss interrupt again.

“Hypothetically speaking, counselor, why don’t you tell your client what your orders are. Tell him that, as soon as he stops being useful to his employers, he’s on his own. Tell him you won’t be here to help him. Tell him he’s expendable. Tell him he’s going down for this, while his bosses, _your_ bosses, are getting away with attempted murd-”

Pounding.

Sonny hears pounding on the two-way mirror.

Liv.

His time is up.

Just as well.

Sonny did what he needed to do.

“See you later, Felipe. Counselor.”

Sonny gets up.

As he leaves, he can already see Heredio’s reflection pulling away from Krauss. Heredio no longer trusts her. That’s good. Liv and Amanda will be able to work with that.

Liv is waiting for him by the door.

She looks pleased.

“That went pretty well, Carisi. Good job.”

Sonny smiles.

“Thanks, Lieu. Thanks for letting me have a crack at him.”

“Don’t mention it. But listen, we caught a case. Attempted rape, the guy fled. I need you and Rollins to talk to the victim. You won’t be able to work Barba’s case anyway, not after I file. Might as well reassign you now. Alright?”

Oh.

But Barba is on his w-

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here for the lineup. I’ll be here for Rafael. And Fin’s going to talk to Heredio. The way you played him, getting him riled up about having a female lawyer, I don’t think he was going to respond well to Rollins, anyway.”

Right.

Of course.

Liv is right.

Liv pats him on the shoulder.

Sonny nods and heads for the car.

So much for lunch with Barba.

And Sonny was really looking forward to it, too.

Still, it’s barely nine o’clock and the day is already a success. They picked up Heredio, the interrogation went well, they’re about to get a proper ID, Liv is still smiling, and Sonny just signed a piece of paper saying he’s Barba’s boyfriend.

Missing out on lunch is a small sacrifice.

Sonny just hopes he’ll make it in time for dinner.

He can do that now.

Have dinner with Barba.

At Barba’s place.

Sonny can stay over.

Officially.

Sonny thinks the night will be a success, too.

 

* * *

 

This is one of the longest days Sonny has ever had to endure.

It’s eight o’clock, Sonny has been working for eleven hours straight, and he hasn’t talked to Barba all day, not even on the phone.

At least Liv called around noon, to let Sonny know the lineup went well, to say that Barba easily picked out Heredio, to say that Barba really _was_ hungover but otherwise perfectly fine.

Liv also said that Barba looked hilariously disappointed when he got to the precinct and realized Sonny wasn’t there.

Hearing that made Sonny feel both touched and slightly uncomfortable.

Hearing Liv teasing him about dating Barba, it’ll take some getting used to.

Sonny can’t wait to get used to it.

Maybe someday he can even tease her back.

Maybe about Tucker.

Someday.

Not yet.

Sonny will have to work up to that.

Sonny loves that idea.

Sonny keeps checking his phone.

Barba still hasn’t called.

All day.

Sonny thinks it’s because of the disclosure forms.

Barba is probably worried Sonny will make fun of him for publicly declaring their love, without ever having declared it in private.

It’s a legitimate concern.

Barba procured, filled out, and signed all those forms, and he even put in Sonny’s information, to facilitate the process, and he got a courier to deliver the forms to Liv, and he never said anything about it, because that would require him to use actual words to express his emotions, and that’s something Barba just doesn’t do.

Of course Sonny will make fun of him.

A little.

The thing is, it would have been nice of Barba to talk to Sonny about this in advance, but Barba decided to let his signature do the talking, and Sonny can’t complain.

Those signed documents, they were a pretty loud statement.

No words needed.

So what if Barba hasn’t called?

Sonny hasn’t called either.

All day.

He’s dying to talk to Barba, but he needs to do it face to face.

He needs to see Barba’s expression when he asks about those forms.

When he asks how long Barba’s had them.

How long it’s been since Barba has wanted to go public.

Sonny, he got the forms after their one-year anniversary. He didn’t want to jinx it before, but after a whole year together he figured it couldn’t hurt to be prepared.

It couldn’t hurt to ask.

Or could it?

Sonny likes to pretend he was working up the courage to ask if Barba would ever consider disclosing, but deep down he knows he was never going to mention it. Not even hypothetically. He’d been holding on to those forms for almost four months, longer than Barba, probably, and he was never going to mention it.

Because what if it _could_ hurt?

What if Barba just laughed and said something like, ‘Disclose? Why the hell would I want to do _that,_ Carisi?’

_‘So I can stop worrying about ruining your reputation if this ever comes out.’_

That’s what Sonny would have said.

That’s why he never brought it up.

That’s why he left his own set of disclosure forms hidden in the bottom of a drawer.

Sonny knew Barba loved him, but he didn’t know if Barba wanted to tell anyone about it.

Knowing that makes all the difference.

That’s why Sonny hasn’t called either.

Sonny texted, instead, around one o’clock, to let Barba know not to expect him for lunch. Barba had probably heard about the new case already, through Liv, but Sonny still wanted to tell him directly.

_“Sorry, can’t make lunch. We caught a new case. See you tonight.”_

That’s what Sonny sent.

The, ‘At your place, where I can now spend the night, because everyone knows about us,’ was implied.

Barba did not text back.

Frankly, Sonny would have been surprised if he had.

Sonny just texted Carmen, instead.

_“Hey, Carmen, order him the orange chicken with a side of brown rice from Red Dragon. Tell him it’s on me, I’ll pay you back. It’ll improve his mood.”_

Unlike her rude boss, Carmen immediately texted back.

_“Thanks, Sonny! You’re a lifesaver. He’s been sulking ever since he got back from the precinct!”_

Carmen sent Sonny a grinning emoji, too.

She always does that. She always sends Sonny emojis and gifs and little jokes and she’s always so cheerful and positive and bubbly.

Sonny and Carmen, they text all the time.

Usually it’s to warn each other when Barba is in a bad mood, but Carmen also makes it a point to let Sonny know when Barba overworks himself, when Barba needs to take a break, when Barba needs to be taken care of.

Carmen always has Barba’s back.

And Sonny’s.

Getting to know her better, it’s been one of the highlights of his relationship with Barba.

Sonny wonders how well Barba knows her.

Not in a work-related way, because it’s obvious Barba and Carmen are totally in sync in that area.

After six years of working together, they can read each other without even having to talk. Sonny knows that, from the way Carmen sometimes fakes important phone calls to allow Barba to kick people out of his office, or from the way she knows when to interrupt a meeting because a real phone call actually is important, or from the way she sometimes comes in without knocking because Barba has given her that liberty, or from the way she’s completely in charge of Barba’s schedule and she doesn’t even ask him before arranging his appointments.

Sonny wonders if Barba truly knows Carmen in a personal way.

Sonny thinks about Dodds, and how he had a fiancée, and none of them knew anything about it.

They worked with Dodds every day, and they never knew he was in love, they never knew he was happy. They never caught him smiling to himself or laughing at his phone or muttering an, ‘I love you,’ before hastily hanging up.

Sonny gets that.

Sonny is in love too, Sonny is happy too, and Barba, the man he loves, is with him at the precinct every other day, and the others still have no idea.

It is what it is.

Sonny is just glad Dodds found happiness, even for a little while, before he died.

He’s glad, until he thinks about Alice. The one who was left behind.

That’s the problem with love.

Somebody’s always left behind.

Sonny tells himself it’s okay, because Alice found happiness too.

For a little while.

That makes it worth it.

Worth the pain.

It doesn’t, not really, but that’s what Sonny tells himself.

Love.

Carmen is in love, too.

Sonny knows that, but he’s not sure if Barba does.

She’s never her true, bright and bubbly self in front of Barba. At least not while they’re working. Carmen is a consummate professional. Sonny doubts Carmen has volunteered any information about her personal life, because that could be seen as inappropriate, and he’s pretty sure Barba has never asked.

Private people, guarded people like Barba, they never ask.

Sonny asked.

After they had been texting for a while, after Sonny realized that Carmen could read Barba’s moods with an eerie accuracy, he had to ask how she did it.

What her secret was.

That’s when Carmen told Sonny about her girlfriend.

Sofia, her childhood sweetheart, who’s now a corporate exec at a pharmaceutical company and is, to quote Carmen, ‘almost as cranky as Mr. Barba. I actually think I like him so much because he reminds me of her.’

Cranky and bubbly.

Sonny thinks that’s a good combination.

Sometimes, on long and boring days, when Carmen and Sonny text each other jokes to pass the time, Carmen will text, ‘So when are you going to ask Mr. Barba if we can all go out on a double date?’

To which Sonny always replies, ‘I’ll get right on it. As soon as I feel like having two Barbas busting my chops, I’ll ask him.’

And then Carmen texts a laughing emoji.

Every time.

Sonny loves Carmen.

She was the first person to find out about them.

The only person who knew, or so Sonny thought until this morning, when he found out Barba had told Liv.

They never actually told Carmen.

She walked in on them, six months into their relationship, because someone had left the door unlocked.

Fine, Sonny had left the door unlocked.

It wasn’t a big deal.

She didn’t see anything scandalous.

Carmen just saw a goodbye kiss, and a pretty chaste one at that. No tongue or nothing. She just saw a sweet kiss that lasted maybe two seconds. She walked in without knocking, just to drop off some files, probably because it was just Sonny in there and she didn’t think formalities meant that much to him.

Sonny and Barba froze where they stood, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, Barba’s hand still on Sonny’s neck.

Unlike them, Carmen only lost her composure for a brief moment, when she couldn’t help an amused, almost gleeful smirk. A split second later, her smirk turned into her usual gentle smile, and then she politely excused herself.

It wasn’t a big deal, and yet Barba flipped out and kept harping on and on about it, for two whole weeks, lecturing Sonny about responsibility and tact and the importance of proper workplace etiquette.

Sonny tried to defend himself, of course. He said there was no reason for him to lock the door in the first place, because they were actually working that morning. They weren’t doing anything improper, and Sonny fully intended to keep things professional, until Barba decided to grab him and kiss him out of the blue.

Sonny tried to argue that the only reason Carmen had even caught them, was because Barba just couldn’t resist Sonny’s devilish charm, and Sonny’s good looks, and Sonny’s luscious lips, and…

And Barba kicked him out.

The morning after, as always. 

Barba told him to come back when he had learned how to use a lock.

Sonny still laughs when he remembers the next time he had to visit Barba’s office, two days later.

He went up to Carmen’s desk with a smile on his face, as usual, except maybe a little more awkward, and he tried to explain.

Carmen didn’t let him.

Carmen just patted Sonny on the arm and said, ‘Mr. Barba has been a lot happier lately. It’s good to finally know why.’

Sonny was touched.

And then Carmen finished her thought.

‘I’ve been _so_ curious about it, but I sure as hell wasn’t gonna ask him. I like my job.’

Sonny laughed out loud, and Carmen joined him, and this was the first time Sonny ever heard her laugh, and it only took about fifteen seconds for Barba to come out of his office and scold them for making a racket.

For a minute, Sonny worried he had gotten Carmen in trouble, but then she winked at him when Barba wasn’t looking. Carmen knew what Sonny himself was beginning to learn. The more embarrassed Barba was, the snappier he became.

‘Are you coming in, detective? _Today?’_

That’s what Barba said, before scampering back inside.

Sonny and Carmen snorted, quietly this time, and Sonny was about to go into Barba’s office, when Barba came back out.

‘Oh and, Carmen, you can come in too. I’m going to need you to take notes during the meeting.’

Sonny will never forget Carmen’s face, when she heard that.

The subtle yet hilarious shift in her expression, because she didn’t think note-taking was going to be necessary. Not while Sonny and Barba were making out.

‘You know, we don’t just kiss in there, Carmen. We work, too.’

That’s what Sonny stage-whispered, just loud enough for Barba to hear.

Yet again, Carmen proved that she was a true pro, because she didn’t even crack a smile.

Not while Barba was watching.

Sonny could only dream of being half as professional, and Barba’s sneer suggested he was thinking the same thing.

That little comment cost Sonny one extra night, during that particular fight.

Barba didn’t call him again until four full days had passed.

Those four days, they felt _long._

Just like all the days Sonny has to spend away from Barba.

Just like this day, today.

It’s almost nine o’clock now, and this day has been excruciatingly long, and Sonny and Amanda have just gotten their first solid lead.

They spent the afternoon helping the woman who almost got assaulted retrace her steps, and Amanda noticed a security camera outside an electronics store which caught their perp as he was fleeing. They sent the footage to TARU, and they just got the enhanced images back, including a pretty clear picture of the suspect.

If only it wasn’t dark out already.

Sonny puts out an ABP before Amanda says what he’s been thinking for the past hour. They should pack it in for the night and start canvassing early next morning.

They start the drive back to the precinct.

Amanda smiles from the driver’s seat, when she catches Sonny’s eye.

She knows Sonny is very eager to punch out.

Amanda has been smiling all day.

Sonny told her.

About him and Barba.

He couldn’t not.

Sonny told her, when they made a quick stop to grab lunch.

Amanda had been brooding all morning, barely making eye contact and only looking like her usual self whenever she’d call her sitter to ask about Jesse.

Sonny couldn’t not tell her.

‘Hey, Amanda,’ Sonny said.

She didn’t answer.

She pretended she was too busy chewing.

‘Hey, you know why Liv pulled us from Barba’s case?’

Amanda shrugged.

She probably thought Sonny was asking her.

‘It’s ‘cause you’re my partner. If I can’t work the case, neither can you.’

That’s what Sonny said, and Amanda finally looked interested.

‘What do you mean you can’t work the case?’

‘I had to recuse myself. Conflict of interest,’ Sonny said.

Amanda narrowed her eyes.

‘Conflict of interest? Why? Oh, I know. You finally told Liv about your unrequited crush on Barba, and she said you’re off the case, ‘cause you can’t be objective when somebody’s trying to kill the love of your life.’

Sonny smiled, not even a little surprised by Amanda’s joke.

She knew.

Sonny’s feelings, they were a poorly kept secret. Especially from someone as observant as Amanda.

It was time for Sonny to reveal the real secret.

‘It’s not unrequited,’ Sonny said.

Amanda almost choked on her sandwich.

‘What do you mean it’s not unreq… Wait, did you tell _Barba_ about your crush? Last night? After you drove him home? I knew it. I knew he liked you back. Yesterday at the bar, he kept staring at you with a dreamy look on his face, the whole time you were sittin’ with us. I _knew_ it. Are you guys together now?’

Sonny was strangely proud to realize Amanda’s grief hadn’t affected her detective skills. As devastated as she was after Mike’s funeral, she was still the same Amanda. Always paying attention.

‘You could say that,’ Sonny said.

Amanda did not appreciate Sonny’s elusiveness.

‘What the hell are you on about, Carisi? Are you together or not?’

‘This morning, we disclosed. To Liv. Well, actually, Barba discl-’

‘Disclosed what?’

Sonny smirked.

‘Our relationship. We’ve been together for over a year,’ Sonny said.

Amanda stared at him for a full minute.

And then she punched him in the arm.

‘A _year?_ And you’re just telling me now? I’ve been dropping hints for ages. You couldn’t let me know I was on the right track? Couldn’t even give me a hint? Thanks, _partner._ Least now I know why you got so mad when Barba called us in to tell us about the threats.’

Just like Sonny thought, Amanda had totally picked up on his anger.

‘Wait. Wait a minute, Carisi. You _just_ found out that morning? When he told us? You’ve been together for a whole year, and Barba’s been getting threats for almost as long, and he never told you?’

Sonny felt like hugging her.

_‘Thank_ you!’ he said.

‘Thank you,’ Sonny said, and then he spent the rest of his lunch nodding along, as Amanda kept saying that Barba was an inconsiderate jerk and Sonny oughta do something about it.

That wasn’t all Amanda said.

She also grilled Sonny about the details. She asked who made the first move, and who else knew, and how the hell Sonny had managed to survive a whole year of dating Barba.

And then, right before they left, she nonchalantly asked what Barba was like in bed, and Sonny almost choked on _his_ sandwich.

She was joking, or so she claimed.

Sonny almost called her out, almost told her to drop it, but he took one good look at her smiling face and decided not to.

Sonny thought of her face at the hospital, at the funeral, Sonny thought of her tears, her pain, and he decided not to say anything that might cause Amanda to stop smiling.

He didn’t answer her question, of course.

He just mumbled that she was being totally inappropriate and that they should go.

Amanda snorted and paid for his lunch, saying Sonny had earned it by giving her some juicy gossip.

Amanda kept smiling all day.

Even now, as they drive back, exhausted and empty-handed, after twelve hours, she keeps smiling.

“I’m happy for you, Carisi,” Amanda says at a red light, four blocks from the precinct.

And then she says, “Wait, is that our guy?”

It is.

Sonny sees their suspect sauntering on the sidewalk, a few feet ahead, on Amanda’s side, and he immediately gets out of the car. The guy spots him, but Sonny will be damned if he lets a pervert outrun him. Sonny catches up to the guy before they’ve even run a block.

After a small struggle, Sonny cuffs the would-be rapist and puts him in the back of the car, as Amanda mutters how stupid the guy is for loitering so close to a police station when he just tried to assault a woman.

They bring him in, a little after nine thirty.

The day started off a success, and it’s ending the same way.

And Sonny still has an evening with Barba to look forward to.

As long as they can wrap up the case soon, that is. Sonny already cancelled lunch, and he’d hate to have to cancel dinner, too.

Liv is waiting for them as soon as they walk in.

She welcomes them with a nod and praises them for a job well done, even though both Sonny and Amanda insist the collar was mostly luck. Luck, and their perp’s extreme stupidity.

Sonny is about to take the guy down for processing when Amanda gives him another smile.

“Uh, Liv, is it alright if I take care of the rest? I got my sitter till midnight. I’ll book him and then I’ll call our vic for the lineup. Maybe we can let Carisi here go _home_ early.”

Liv bites on her glasses, probably to keep from laughing.

The way Amanda put a stress on the word ‘home’ was enough to clue her in.

Liv and Amanda both know that Sonny won’t be going home.

Sonny stays quiet.

He’s just now realizing that disclosure will have some unforeseen and unintended consequences.

Like Liv and Amanda, ganging up on him.

Teasing him mercilessly.

As Sonny watches them, both smiling, both looking happy after days of looking haunted, he thinks he can take a little teasing.

Sonny thinks it’s worth it.

“I don’t see why not, Rollins. Carisi, get out of here before I change my mind.”

_Definitely_ worth it.

Liv heads back to her office, still smiling, but Sonny stops Amanda before she leaves.

“Hey, Amanda. There’s, like, six days’ worth of pasta in the fridge in the break room. Why don’t you take it? It’s way better than the microwaved crap you’re always eatin’. You can freeze it too, if you want. It keeps really well, you just gotta thaw it and reh-”

“You’re welcome, Carisi.”

Amanda walks away, not saying another word.

It is implied that she accepts his offer.

And also that she expects similar offers in the future.

It’s all in her smirk.

Sonny grins.

Worth it.

Sure, the pasta was meant for Barba, but he’s already had Chinese for lunch and Amanda deserves a little something for having Sonny’s back.

After all, Sonny is still keeping the cheesecake.

It’s raspberry.

Barba’s favorite.

 

* * *

 

After a quick text to Carmen, to confirm that Barba has indeed left his office, Sonny starts driving to Barba’s place.

He knows he should probably head home first, for a quick shower and a change of clothes, especially after a twelve-hour day, but he doesn’t have the time.

That’s not true.

Sonny has the time but he doesn’t have the patience.

Sonny doesn’t want to keep Barba waiting any longer.

Besides, this won’t be the first time Sonny has shown up at Barba’s in his work clothes. And this time he’s bringing cheesecake, so he doubts Barba will even notice what he’s wearing.

Sonny arrives at Barba’s street only a few minutes later, and he’s relieved to see all three patrol cars, parked in their usual spots around the block.

It’s slightly surreal to think that Sonny will be going inside and spending the night with Barba, while several police officers lurk right outside, but this is Barba’s life now.

This is their life, for the foreseeable future.

They disclosed.

Barba disclosed, because he does foresee a future with Sonny, and this is their life.

A twenty-four seven security detail, and cruisers stationed all over Barba’s neighborhood, and a constant fear that someone will make good on those death threats and it’ll all be over.

This is their life.

There’s fear, but there’s also late night cheesecake, and sleepovers without having to pretend they’re not carpooling to work the next morning, and maybe a game of Scrabble, too.

This is their life now, and it’s good enough.

Sonny parks his car, cheesecake in hand, and starts walking up to the cruiser parked nearest to Barba’s building. The same two cops are sitting in it, and they look just as bored as they did yesterday. The middle-aged guy barely looks like he’s paying attention, eyes on his phone, but the younger officer seems to have her eyes on the ball, and she spots Sonny from several feet away.

Sonny thinks he’ll try to talk to her. He’s seen her around the precinct many times.

Kwan. That’s her name. She wants to make detective, and sometimes she asks for advice. Sonny’s always nice to her, so he hopes she’ll return the favor and let him through without asking for details.

Not that Sonny is about to offer up a detailed explanation, but still. He figures he should say something, just as a courtesy. They’re all cops. At the very least, Sonny figures he should say a quick hello to the officers who are tasked with protecting his…

His boyfriend.

Rafael Barba, Sonny’s official boyfriend.

Speaking of slightly surreal.

Sonny approaches the passenger side window and tries not to laugh as Kwan slaps her partner on the arm, to alert him to Sonny’s presence.

“Uh, hey. Hey, Officer Kwan, remember me? Detective Carisi, SVU. I was here last night, I’m…”

“Yeah, yeah. We know who you are. You’re on the list.”

Oh.

Looks like the middle-aged guy has no time for pleasantries.

Even better.

Sonny’s in a hurry. So much so, that he barely has time to preen about being on Barba’s list.

A list which also includes Linda the house cleaner and Andy the pizza guy, but still.

“Alright. I’m heading in. Have a good shift, guys.”

“Sure thing, detective. Have _fun_ up there.”

Sonny is in such a rush to see Barba, that he almost misses the look on that cop’s face.

Almost.

Sonny has seen that look before.

Feigned politeness mixed with sarcasm mixed with disgust.

Barba did say something about dirty looks yesterday at the bar. At the time, Sonny suspected Barba’s four-person detail, even though they’re all seasoned detectives, vouched for by Fin’s friend at Threat Assessment. Sonny didn’t even consider the unis, and now he feels like an idiot for the oversight.

The look on that cop’s face, it definitely qualifies as dirty.

Sonny is going to have to look into this.

It’s too dark to get a badge number, and there’s no visible name tag either, but getting the guy’s name shouldn’t be a problem. Rodriguez has set everything up, arranged for all the shifts. She’s meticulous. She’ll probably agree to reassign the guy on Sonny’s word alone, just to cover their bases. And if she doesn’t, there’s always Liv. Sonny may not have any pull, but Liv is a Lieutenant now, and she will _not_ stand for anybody harassing her colleagues.

Her friends.

Her family.

Sonny is about to say something to that effect, namedrop ‘Lieutenant Benson,’ maybe, when Kwan intervenes.

“Yeah, Carisi. You and your boyfriend have a nice evening! Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on things out here.”

She smiles.

She’s not being sarcastic. She means that.

Sonny knows, because she literally winks at him.

Which is way too suggestive, if not inappropriate, but it’s also pretty supportive, and Sonny can’t find it in him to be offended. Plus, he suspects she’s being tawdry on purpose, just to get her asshole of a partner riled up. Or maybe she’s trying to be extra friendly, to make up for the guy’s homophobia.

Either way, Sonny will take it.

“Thanks, Kwan. I will. You keep up the good work, alright? Keep it up, and you’re gonna make detective before you hit thirty.”

Kwan smirks.

Her partner, who’s on the wrong side of _forty,_ let alone thirty, looks away with a scowl on his face.

Sonny couldn’t help himself.

Kwan’s partner stays quiet after that. Either because he’s outnumbered, or because there’s only one detective there, and that’s Sonny, and the guy may be homophobic enough for cowardly innuendo, but he’s not stupid enough to say anything explicit in front of a cop who outranks him.

Sonny is glad.

Sonny doesn’t have time for a fight.

Not right now.

Sonny’s had his share of fights.

Right now, he has a cheesecake to deliver.

Sonny throws out a quick, “Goodnight,” and he catches Kwan’s long-suffering look as he walks away. His last thought before entering Barba’s building is that he really needs to get that guy reassigned.

Bill, Barba’s doorman, actually greets Sonny by name this time, smiling as he does it.

Sonny is momentarily startled, until he realizes that Barba’s ‘list’ was probably handed to Bill as well. For safety reasons.

Sonny returns both the greeting and the smile, and he heads inside.

It takes him about fifteen seconds to decide between taking the elevator and taking the stairs. The elevator is faster, but Sonny has an urge to take the stairs because walking up on his own two legs seems more proactive than standing inside a metal box.

It takes Sonny another fifteen seconds to realize he’s being irrational.

Sonny gets on the elevator.

He presses the button at least five times.

Sonny can’t wait.

He can’t wait to ring Barba’s doorbell, to see Barba’s face, to kiss Barba now that everyone knows.

Sonny thinks it’ll feel different.

He can’t wait.

He will have to wait, at least until Barba gets to the door, because Sonny still doesn’t have keys to Barba’s apartment, but that should only take a few seconds.

Sonny regrets not asking for those keys before. Then he’d be able to see Barba a few seconds sooner.

Every second counts.

Sonny _should_ have asked for Barba’s keys, if only for emergencies. Especially after he found out about the death threats.

That would have been a good excuse.

Sonny should have asked for Barba’s keys. Maybe he can ask now. Maybe Barba will offer.

Maybe Sonny will offer Barba the keys to _his_ place.

He’s been meaning to do that for a while now.

For months.

The truth is, Sonny was never going to mention that, either.

What if Barba just laughed and said something like, ‘What am I supposed to do with your keys, Carisi? Water your plants? You don’t have any plants.’

Just like those disclosure forms, Sonny has kept an extra set of keys safely hidden in the bottom of a drawer.

Not the same drawer.

Sonny has a lot of hiding places.

Sonny’s apartment is littered with little things he’s too scared to give Barba.

A set of keys.

A set of legal documents.

A wrapped pair of cufflinks meant to be a present for their one-year anniversary, bought in the hope Barba would also get Sonny a gift, a hope which did not come to pass.

A funny lawyer mug that Sonny thought was kind of stupid in retrospect, but still refuses to throw away, because maybe someday he’ll use it to serve Barba’s morning coffee for a laugh.

A definitive edition of Franz Kafka’s _The Trial_ in hardcover, because the spine on Barba’s old copy is cracked in, like, three places, and every other page is dog-eared, and Sonny actually doesn’t know why he’s holding on to that gift because it’s not even that personal or expensive, he just knows he has it tucked in the back of a cabinet.

And more.

There’s more.

Sonny thinks he can start giving some of these items to Barba, now that they disclosed.

Not all of them.

Not all at once.

That would be desperate.

One thing at a time.

This is their life now.

The elevator is taking forever.

Sonny stares at the numbers, waits for them to change.

1.

2.

Pause.

3.

Pause.

4.

Sonny waits.

Soon, he’ll be on Barba’s floor.

The elevator barely feels like it’s moving.

Sonny even thinks it stops, twice, until he sees the numbers changing again. A watched pot never boils, he supposes, so he looks away from the display.

That’s a mistake.

Sonny’s eyes fall to the mirror, and he can immediately see that those twelve hours of work have taken their toll on his normally youthful looks.

Sonny looks tired, the bags under his eyes look even scarier in the crappy elevator lighting, his hair is messy, his tie is askew, and his eyes are bright.

Sonny looks happy.

Sonny smiles at his own reflection.

He can’t wait.

Everyone knows now.

Barba willingly alerted both the DA’s office and 1PP to the fact he’s romantically involved with Sonny, and Sonny has managed not to flip out over this information for an entire day, but now he’s almost on Barba’s floor and the elevator is about to ding and it’s getting increasingly difficult for Sonny to control himself.

Barba loves him.

Sonny loves Barba too.

Sonny has wanted to say that, for the longest time.

He’s always the one who says it first.

He can’t help himself.

Sonny is a sap.

After a couple of months, he’ll just blurt it out.

It was like that with his high school sweetheart, i.e. the pitcher on his junior varsity baseball team, it was like that with his two serious college boyfriends, it was like that with his partner when he was still a police officer, just before he made detective, it was like that with the guy he dated during his first two years at Fordham.

Sonny can’t help what he feels, and he sure as hell can’t help what comes out of his mouth. He never could.

Except now.

With Barba.

Sonny still hasn’t said it, even though he’s felt it for a whole year, for two years, for the two years he’s known Barba. Even though it’s clear Barba knows that. Even though it’s clear Barba feels the same way.

Sonny is keeping that ‘I love you’ in a drawer, too.

Not because he thinks Barba will laugh at him.

Barba wouldn’t do that.

Sonny is keeping it in, because it’s different this time.

This ‘I love you,’ it’s different.

It feels different.

More.

That’s why Sonny doesn’t say this one out loud.

He said it, all those other times, and it never worked out, but this time it’s different, so Sonny doesn’t say it.

The elevator dings.

Sonny gets off with a spring in his step.

As it turns out, he doesn’t have to wait at all.

Not a single second.

He doesn’t even have to ring the doorbell.

Barba’s door is already open.

Barba couldn’t wait either.

Barba loves h-

“Did you get lost on your way up, Sonny? Bill called and said you got here ten minutes ago.”

Sonny snorts.

More like three minutes, that would’ve been two minutes if the elevator wasn’t so freakin’ slow, but Sonny doesn’t say that.

Sonny starts walking to Barba’s door.

To Barba.

Barba is smiling.

There’s no sign of the morning’s hangover on his face.

Barba looks both cozy and alluring as ever, leaning against the doorframe in a pair of flip flops and grey sweatpants, his hair fluffy and soft.

Barba is wearing one of Sonny’s t-shirts.

An aquamarine crew-neck Sonny’s had since college.

Not that Sonny ever called it ‘aquamarine’ before.

That’s what Barba calls it.

Sonny used to call it ‘blue.’

Sonny is terrible with colors.

Until he saw how this shirt makes Barba’s eyes look so, _so_ green, and he finally understood the difference.

Barba loves that t-shirt.

Barba wears it more often than he wears his own, for some reason. It was already faded by the time Barba got his hands on it, and now it’s even more faded, and a little more stretched out, and there’s a small hole near the seam on the left side, but Barba doesn’t seem to mind.

One time, about a month ago, Sonny grabbed it and put it on because the delivery guy was at the door and it was the only thing he could find. It felt so different on him. It didn’t fit right. It felt roomier, softer, like it wasn’t his shirt anymore, like it was Barba’s now, just like Sonny is Barba’s now, and Sonny loves Barba.

Rafael.

Sonny doesn’t say that out loud, either.

“Nice to see you all dressed up, Barba. Sweatpants and a t-shirt? You shouldn’t have.”

Barba rolls his eyes.

He doesn’t stop smiling.

“Said the man whose underwear drawer consists entirely of plaid.”

Plaid plus a hidden set of keys, but Sonny keeps that to himself.

For now.

For now, Sonny just laughs, and it’s easy, it’s always easy with Barba.

“Hey, come on. You know that’s not true. You know I got some sexy stuff in there. Silk. Black. Huh?”

Barba raises an eyebrow.

“Of course I know that. I bought them for you.”

Sonny laughs some more.

That _is_ true.

Odds are, everything in Sonny’s closet that could be considered sexy and isn’t a pair of tight jeans, it’s a gift from Barba.

For a while now, Barba has been getting him stuff, stuff like underwear or Henleys or dress shirts or ties. It’s always clothes for some reason, and they’re never giftwrapped, and the price tags are always still attached, which Sonny supposes is Barba’s way of saying they aren’t actually gifts.

Most of the time, they’re way pricier than what Sonny would normally buy for himself, and sometimes he feels awkward even putting them on.

He still does it.

Sonny wears the dress shirts and the ties at work, and he loves feeling Barba’s eyes undressing him, every time he does.

Sonny wears the Henleys when they go out on Sunday mornings, for a trip to the farmers’ market or for a walk, and he loves how Barba always dresses casually too, in jeans and a polo, just so they match.

Sonny wears the sexy silk underwear on their sleepovers, so dark against his skin, and he loves feeling Barba’s large hands all over him, touching, groping, fingers sliding under the fabric.

If there’s anything that feels better than Barba’s hands, it’s the look on Barba’s face every time he sees Sonny wearing one of his gifts.

They _are_ gifts.

Sonny gets it.

Sonny feels the same way, every time he sees Barba wearing one of his t-shirts.

It’s not about possessiveness.

It’s about belonging.

Being in the right place.

With the right person.

Sonny knows what he knows.

Sonny is almost at the door, and Barba can’t wait, not even a second, not even for Sonny to take those final two steps, because he takes those steps instead.

Barba comes out to the hallway and kisses Sonny, soft, on the lips.

Barba isn’t drunk this time.

This time, when Sonny feels Barba’s hands on his face, he doesn’t pull away.

This time, Sonny doesn’t have to worry about hanging around too long.

This time, Sonny gets to stay.

Everyone knows now.

Their kiss, it doesn’t feel that different.

Sonny thinks it’s just his own giddiness that’s new.

Barba told him, yesterday, Barba said this wasn’t a secret. Sonny understands that now. Secrets feel wrong, and kissing Barba has always felt right. Now, that everyone knows, and before, when almost no one did.

Their kiss feels the same.

Their kiss feels good, and Sonny wishes he could caress Barba’s face too, because he can see there’s stubble coming in, and he loves that. Problem is, he’s still carrying the cheesecake, so he only has one free hand and there’s only so much he can do with it.

Sonny decides to caress Barba’s back as they kiss. Always a good option.

The kiss lasts for a suspiciously long time.

Barba’s hands eventually leave Sonny’s face and start moving downwards, inching closer to his ass.

Right there, in the hallway.

Sonny begins to question Barba’s motives.

While still kissing him, of course.

Sonny tightens his arm around Barba’s back, and starts making a mental list of possible reasons why Barba would want to prolong this kiss.

Sonny immediately disregards the theory that Barba simply missed him.

He’s not delusional.

Sonny also rejects the idea Barba is just happy because they disclosed. Or relieved, because they no longer have to hide when they’re at work. That’s a little more believable, and possibly true, but it’s not the reason why Barba is grabbing onto Sonny’s butt in a well-lit hallway.

Plus, Barba doesn’t express happiness with kisses. He does it with muttered comments, and eye rolls, and sarcastic jabs, and soft looks when he doesn’t think Sonny is looking.

As Barba’s tongue starts sliding deeper into his mouth, Sonny considers the possibility Barba is trying to make up for yesterday’s drunkenness. For getting emotional. Needy, even, for once in his life. For practically begging Sonny to come in. That’s actually very likely. It’s just like Barba to try to distract from his own vulnerability by grabbing Sonny’s ass.

Sonny dismisses that thought as well.

Barba is definitely trying to distract Sonny, but he wants to avoid a different topic altogether.

Disclosure.

Sonny would bet dollars to donuts that, after this marathon kiss ends, Barba plans to take him to bed and keep his mouth occupied all night, just so Sonny doesn’t bring up those signed papers.

That’s why they’ve been kissing for the past five minutes.

That’s what Barba wants to avoid.

An actual conversation.

In all honesty, Sonny has no objection to keeping his mouth firmly attached to Barba’s body for the duration of the evening. That said, he _really_ thinks this is something they should discuss.

Barba never said anything about going public, in over a year.

Barba never says anything.

Not until he absolutely has to.

Sonny is determined to make an effort, anyway, so puts an end to their kiss.

“Here. I got you cheesecake. To celebrate. Now that we’re official.”

Barba’s responding expression is one of mild discomfort.

Mild yet hilarious discomfort.

“Oh. Okay. Thanks. You can drop it off and be on your way.”

Barba actually tries to simultaneously grab the cheesecake and push Sonny away, which only adds to the hilarity.

“Nice try, Barba. You want the cheesecake, you gotta let me in.”

Barba has the nerve to act like he’s actually weighing his options.

“Is it raspberry, at least?”

Sonny smirks.

“What do ya think?”

Barba can’t resist cracking a smile.

Barba can’t resist Sonny, either.

_Or_ a good cheesecake.

Barba takes Sonny’s hand and pulls him inside.

Barba even kisses him on the cheek before locking the door behind them.

Sonny heads straight for the kitchen, because he needs to put that cheesecake in the fridge as soon as possible.

A task made considerably more challenging by the fact Barba decides to undress him, starting with his coat and quickly moving to his jacket.

Sonny goes along with it.

He sets the cheesecake on the counter and smiles, as Barba starts tugging at his vest.

Sonny didn’t think he’d be setting foot in Barba’s kitchen so soon. He missed it. It’s his kitchen, too. He cooks in there more often than he does at his own apartment. Sonny remembers that time he dared to rearrange Barba’s cabinets, to make the layout more efficient. Barba got really mad, but Sonny made tiramisu as an apology, so he didn’t get kicked out.

Sonny keeps smiling, waiting for Barba to stop fiddling with his clothes, but when Barba pulls off his tie and starts on his shirt, it becomes apparent this is yet another attempt at deflection.

“Gimme a minute, Barba, okay? I gotta put this in the fridge or it’s gonna get lumpy.”

Barba actually heeds Sonny’s warning and steps back. Pastries have a way of getting him to behave.

Sonny opens the refrigerator door and immediately spots a carton of expired milk, a pizza box whose contents exude a questionable odor, and a practically empty bottle of ketchup.

This is what happens when Sonny doesn’t come over for a few d-

Wait.

That’s actually a decent segue.

“Seriously? I’m gone for, like, four days and your fridge is already a mess? It’s a good thing we disclosed, ‘cause now I get to be here and I can make sure your place doesn’t turn int-”

_“Okay,_ Sonny. I get it. Yes. We disclosed. Good for us. Yes, I told Liv we were dating a year ago. Great. Anything else? Are you gonna talk about this all night?”

Dammit.

Sonny hates it when Barba takes the wind out of his sails.

Still, he will persevere.

“Uh, yes?”

Barba snorts as he starts clearing out his fridge.

That’s the thing.

Barba is perfectly capable of keeping his own refrigerator clean and well stocked. He’s perfectly capable of cooking intricate meals for himself, meals that wouldn’t be out of place on a restaurant menu. Barba is very thorough and neat and the exact opposite of messy, but he’s come to rely on Sonny for certain things. When Sonny’s nor around, these things don’t get done.

They’ve come to rely on each other.

Sonny, too.

Sonny relies on Barba. Among other things, Barba is in charge of the laundry and picking up the dry-cleaning from a hole-in-the wall family business about seven blocks away. When they started spending more time together, Barba was adamant about Sonny switching to their service. Barba offered to take Sonny’s clothes in, just to prove how great the place was, and he’s been doing it ever since. Back then, Sonny was surprised Barba didn’t have assistants handling this stuff, but now he gets it. Barba doesn’t trust a lot of people.

Barba trusts Sonny.

This is their life.

Sonny steps closer, as soon as Barba is done sorting out the mess.

Sonny puts his arms on Barba’s sides, the old t-shirt so soft under his palms, Sonny searches for that small hole with his index finger, poking at it, feeling Barba’s skin underneath, and he waits.

Barba looks up at him.

“Why did you wanna disclose, Barba?”

Barba exhales.

“I’m going to be under constant surveillance for God knows how long, Sonny. That’s my worst nightmare. I had to do something to make life more bearable.”

Sonny grins.

Forget that unspoken ‘I love you.’

This is the real declaration.

Sonny makes Barba’s life ‘more bearable.’

That’s not sarcasm. That’s not Barba downplaying his feelings.

That’s Barba being honest.

Sonny makes life bearable.

For Barba, that’s rare.

Sonny holds him a little tighter.

“How long have you had the papers?”

Barba looks a little uncomfortable again, shifting on his feet.

Sonny isn’t sure Barba will answer that one, so he offers up more information hoping Barba will be inspired to reciprocate.

“You know, ‘cause I’ve had them for, like, four months. I got a copy of the forms too, I just never told you ‘cause I didn’t think you, uh… I figured you were gonna think I was crazy. For wanting to tell people.”

Sonny smiles awkwardly. He’s starting to understand Barba’s reticence. It’s not easy to talk about this.

Or maybe it is.

Barba’s face gets softer, just like that.

There’s a sweet look of surprise in his eyes.

That same look he gets every time Sonny slips and says something a little too honest.

Barba didn’t know Sonny was thinking about disclosing.

Barba loves Sonny.

“Me too. Four months. That’s when I got them too. Right before our first anniversary.”

_‘Before.’_

Barba got the papers _before_ their first anniversary.

Before Sonny did.

That’s mind-blowing enough, but it’s not all.

There’s another thing Barba said.

‘First.’

Barba called it a ‘first’ anniversary.

Sonny thinks that means something.

Barba doesn’t choose his words lightly.

He could have said, ‘our one-year anniversary,’ he could have just said, ‘our anniversary.’ They’ve only had the one.

He didn’t.

Barba called it a ‘first’ anniversary.

Like there’ll be a second.

Like Barba wants that.

Barba loves Sonny.

“I was going to talk to you, Sonny. We were going to discuss this. Just… Later. Eventually. There was no rush. Except I suddenly found myself with a team of semi-competent bodyguards and a complete lack of privacy.

“I have to announce my every move days in advance. I have to ask for permission to dine at my favorite restaurant. I have to get my coffee from a different place every morning, because I’m told I need to change up my routine. I can’t live like this. That’s why I had to drag you down with me. If I have to suffer, so will you.”

Sonny smiles.

Barba didn’t want to be alone in his suffering.

He wanted to be with Sonn-

“Anyway. It’s done now. We disclosed. And, according to Liv, everyone at the 16th precinct is, and I quote, ‘very happy for us.’ Especially Fin, apparently, but I think she was joking about that.

“Actually, they’re not _all_ happy for us. That middle-aged simpleton who’s parked outside every night, he gave me another dirty look today, when I came home from work. I’m not sure what he’s trying to achieve by broadcasting his homophobia to a Manhattan ADA in a gay relationship, but no one ever said patrol cops were smart.”

Sonny stops smiling.

Just like he thought. That guy, he’s a problem.

“Yeah. He did the same thing to me. He mouthed off too, but I d-”

“What?”

Barba looked dismissive, just a moment ago, he looked condescending, when he thought he was the only one being harassed, but now he looks mad.

He even moves away.

“What did he say to you, Sonny? First thing tomorrow morning, I’m going to have him reassigned so fast his head will spin.”

Sonny grins.

Barba isn’t just mad.

He’s protective.

Sonny knows that feeling.

Still, tonight is not the night to worry about bigoted idiots.

“Forget him. You should hear what his partner told me. Kwan. She was like, _‘Enjoy bangin’ your boyfriend, Carisi.’_ I don’t know what she was thinkin’. She winked at me, too.”

Barba visibly relaxes.

It’s clear he knows what Sonny is doing, it’s clear he knows Sonny is just joking to diffuse the tension, but it still seems to work.

“She did? You know, she _is_ always complimenting my outfits. Every time she sees me. She hasn’t winked at me, but she _is_ always giving me these looks. These friendly smiles. Which is unusual for a cop.”

Sonny frowns in concern.

In feigned concern.

“Oh yeah? That’s pretty inappropriate, Barba. Tryin’ to flirt with the guy she’s supposed to be protecting. You should get her reassigned too, just to be safe.”

Barba smirks.

“I hardly think that’s necessary, Sonny. She just told you to enjoy having sex with me. Which is exactly what’s going to happen, now that you don’t have to leave anymore. She sounds very perceptive, actually.”

Sonny chuckles, until he sees Barba moving closer again.

Barba is still looking up, standing so close now, and Sonny feels an exhale against his jaw.

Barba finally touches Sonny, hands on Sonny’s forearms, and Sonny’s sleeves aren’t even rolled up this time, Barba’s not even touching skin, and they’re not even kissing, and Sonny is still seeing stars.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, counselor. I’m under strict orders from the Lieu to stick to ‘wholesome activities’ tonight. She said we should play Scrabble. She said you’re great at it.”

Barba leans in, close enough to kiss Sonny’s neck, and then he tugs until the top button on Sonny’s shirt comes undone.

“Have you met me, Sonny? Of course I’m great at Scrabble.”

Barba kisses him again, right on his pulse point.

Sonny wraps his arms around Barba’s shoulders.

“You’re just saying that ‘cause you’ve never played against me.”

Barba stops kissing Sonny’s neck, just long enough to raise an eyebrow.

“Is that so?”

Sonny kisses Barba’s temple.

Barba’s hair feels really soft.

“Yep. Wanna play? W-”

_“Yes,”_ Barba hisses as he bites at Sonny’s earlobe.

Sonny’s hips jerk involuntarily.

That’s not the type of ‘playing’ he had in mind.

“I mean, wanna play Scrabble? We can have some of my celebratory cheesecake while we play.”

Barba is licking the underside of Sonny’s jaw now, whispering between brushes of his tongue.

“Celebratory? Who’s celebrating? I’m not celebrating anything.”

He sure could’ve fooled Sonny.

The thing is, as good as this feels, as good as Barba’s lips feel, as good as Barba’s hands feel, all Sonny really wants right now is to play Scrabble and have some cheesecake.

They’ve had a rough week, both of them, and Sonny loves the idea of pounding Barba into the mattress, especially after four days apart, and there’ll be time for that later, but first he wants to take a minute.

An hour, maybe.

To relax.

To get back to their daily routine.

It’s what makes him happy.

“Come on, Barba. Don’t you want some cheesecake? I made it for you.”

Barba finally stops trying to hump Sonny and takes a good look at his face.

A long look.

Sonny thinks Barba gets it.

“Fine. Let’s play Scrabble. And speaking of making me things, what happened to dinner? I thought you were supposed to bring me food, Sonny. This is dessert.”

Barba is teasing.

He definitely gets it.

In the interest of preserving Barba’s good mood, Sonny decides not to answer that question truthfully, i.e. by saying, ‘I did make you dinner, but I let Rollins have it.’

Sonny gets creative, instead.

“I’ll cook you something tomorrow night. I’ll do it here. I got the afternoon off, after workin’ twelve hours today. I’m gonna go grocery shopping first, ‘cause our fridge is em… ‘cause your fridge is empty, and then I’m gonna make dinner. If you come home early, maybe we can watch a movie too. Date night. How about it?”

Sonny starts cringing before he’s even done talking.

Not only did he say ‘our fridge,’ he also called Barba’s apartment ‘hom-

“Alright. Date night tomorrow. I’ll hold you to it.”

Oh.

Barba doesn’t comment on Sonny’s slip-ups.

Barba just smiles and gives him a quick kiss on the lips.

“Come on, Sonny. I’ll get the board. You get the cheesecake.”

There’s an unmistakable excitement in Barba’s eyes, right before he heads for the living room.

Sonny thinks their daily routine makes Barba happy too.


	3. Affixed

**QUICK**

Sonny smiles proudly.

He got lucky with the first draw, plus he got a double letter score for that _K,_ and he’s off to a great start.

He thinks he’s going to need it.

Barba shakes his head.

_KAFTAN_

Sonny frowns. Barba hit a double _word_ score. Obviously. And what the hell is a ‘kaft-’

“It’s a type of clothing, Sonny. It’s a g-”

Whatever.

“Whatever. Eat your cheesecake.”

Barba laughs quietly.

They keep playing.

They’re sitting on Barba’s enormous couch, shoulder to shoulder even though there’s plenty of room, with the board in the middle of the coffee table and two plates of cheesecake on either side. The TV’s on, but it’s on mute.

Sonny likes that.

It reminds him of home.

For some reason, Sonny’s parents always used to do that. They’d mute the TV when it was time for dinner, but they’d never actually turn it off.

It used to drive Barba crazy at first, how Sonny couldn’t eat without the TV on in the background, and they had several arguments about it, but now Barba is the one who always reaches for the remote, every time they sit down for a meal. It’s become a part of their dinner preparations, much like setting the table. Barba always turns the TV on and then immediately puts it on mute. Sonny knows it doesn’t really make sense, and so does Barba, but Barba does it anyway.

For Sonny.

**ZA**

Sonny grins, because he managed to get a double letter score for his _Z._

Barba harrumphs, probably because Sonny dared to play a two-letter word.

_ZAPPED_

And Barba gets another double word score. With Sonny’s _Z._ The same _Z_ Sonny had been saving for three turns.

Of course.

Sonny thinks he should be getting irritated with the way Barba’s raking up the points by playing strategically, banking on tile placement instead of coming up with fancy words, but it’s hard to get mad when Barba always leans back, after every turn, after every bite of cheesecake.

Barba leans forward, to play or to eat, and then he leans back, right into Sonny’s personal space, shoulder bumping against Sonny’s, hand resting on Sonny’s knee.

Every time.

It’s nice.

They’ve never done this exact thing before, playing Scrabble, or any board game for that matter, but this is close enough to their routine to feel familiar. Sitting on the couch, the TV on, eating and touching.

It’s nice.

It’s relaxing, and God knows they both need to relax.

“How come we’ve never played Scrabble before, Barba?”

Barba side-eyes Sonny as he contemplates his next word.

“Because we’re not a bored married couple in our seventies?”

_‘Maybe we someday we could be.’_

That’s what Sonny doesn’t say.

It would be too clingy.

“You play with Liv.”

Great.

Sonny wanted to avoid ‘clingy’ and he landed on ‘jealous.’

Which is considerably worse.

Or maybe it’s better.

Barba smirks.

It’s clear he’s amused, even as he shuffles his letters, trying to pretend like he’s still deciding on his next play.

Barba likes it when Sonny gets jealous.

Not that Sonny is jealous of Barba’s relationship with Liv.

Not really.

Not anymore.

Not m-

“Liv and I might as well be octogenarians living in a retirement community in Florida, Sonny. All that’s missing is the bingo tournament. We play Scrabble and share bottles of wine and complain about our day. I try to be a little less boring when I entertain my lovers.”

Sonny doesn’t react to that specific wording.

To that plural.

He knows Barba is just trying to rile him up.

He knows, because Barba is having trouble keeping a straight face.

Barba is just trying to get him more jealous, even if it’s just by a humorous reference to ‘lovers,’ plural, past or present.

“Oh yeah? I sure hope you’re havin’ fun with your other lovers, Barba, ‘cause you do boring stuff with me all the time.”

That sounds like a joke, or even an insult, but it’s neither.

It’s the truth, and Barba knows it. At least going by the way he’s smiling, softly, as he’s still trying to keep up the charade of rearranging his letters.

Sonny and Barba, they do boring stuff together, all the time.

Grocery shopping, and cooking, and cleaning, and doing the laundry, and reading in bed, and sitting around watching TV.

This is their life.

“Unless I’m mistaken, Sonny, which I rarely am, you were the one who suggested we play Scrabble tonight. Even though I made a _very_ strong case for other, more exciting activities.”

Sonny smirks, because Barba does have a point.

_HAMMER_

Oh.

Triple word score.

Barba has a lot of points, apparently.

Turns out, Barba really _was_ contemplating his next word.

Barba was multitasking.

Flirting with Sonny, in his deepest, smoothest voice, and coming up with a great word simultaneously.

Oh well.

Worth it.

Barba is sitting even closer to Sonny now, his back against Sonny’s chest, and they’re practically cuddling, so it’s worth it.

Plus, Barba’s word placement on the board didn’t mess up Sonny’s plans for the next play.

**SYZYGY**

There.

Sonny used up the two Ys he’d been hoarding, plus a blank tile, and boom. He figures that’s gotta be good enough to impress Barba.

It is.

Barba actually moves away, leans toward the board as if to inspect it. Sonny doesn’t know what Barba’s hoping to find, but h- ~~~~

“How do you even know this word, Sonny? Did you brush up on words containing _Z_ on your way over, just to try to impress me?”

Sonny snorts.

Sonny _wishes_ he had done that, because Barba is proving to be a little out of his league, but he’s not about to admit it.

Sonny is also not about to admit the real reason he knows that word, namely that it’s the title of an _X-Files_ episode.

“What? I know lots of words. I told you I was good.”

Barba doesn’t look like he’s buying it, but he leans back and gets comfortable again, resting against Sonny’s side.

They keep playing.

Fun.

This is fun.

Sonny feels guilty for enjoying himself, he feels guilty every time he forgets to mourn Dodds, every time he forgets to worry about Liv or Amanda, every time he forgets there are people out there who are trying to hurt Barba.

Sonny feels guilty, but the adorable look of concentration on Barba’s face eases his mind.

Sonny is losing, but he’s holding his own.

Sonny is making Barba work for it, and Barba clearly wasn’t expecting that. Barba is actually a little ruffled, and Sonny can tell, and Sonny can’t stop smiling.

This is fun.

They keep playing.

_AFFIXED_

Barba uses all seven of his tiles, and he gets a triple word score too, and it appears that Sonny only _thought_ he was holding his own.

Barba is preening as he places tile after tile on the board.

He even pauses after ‘affix,’ to make Sonny think that’s the word he’s playing, before adding the last two letters in triumph.

It’s disarmingly endearing.

When he’s done, Barba celebrates his achievement by polishing off whatever’s left of his cheesecake, in one big gulp.

Sonny isn’t even halfway done with his own slice.

“Alright, alright, Barba. I’m good, but you’re better. Here. To the victor go the spoils.”

Sonny moves his plate over to Barba’s side.

Barba rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t refuse the offer.

He never does.

Sonny always makes his own portions a little larger than usual, for this exact reason.

Sonny knows Barba is sometimes embarrassed to ask for a second helping, but he’s never too embarrassed to have Sonny’s leftovers. Or Sonny’s actual food, for that matter. It’s not unusual for Barba to just reach over with his fork and start eating out of Sonny’s plate before Sonny’s even done.

Sonny likes that.

Sonny watches Barba taking another bite of the cheesecake, Barba’s fork making an indentation right where Sonny’s fork was, just a minute ago, and he smiles.

And then he looks at his tiles, and then the board, and then Sonny’s smile disappears.

He’s got nothing.

**BEET**

Not exactly a game-changer, but at least Sonny didn’t lose his turn.

Barba has the nerve to snort.

Sonny regrets giving him the cheesecake.

Barba seems to consider his next word very carefully, though Sonny doesn’t know why. Barba’s basically already won, and they only have a few tiles left, and th-

_WANTON_

Sonny looks at Barba out of the corner of his eye.

Barba appears perfectly nonchalant.

Sonny thinks nothing of it.

They’re almost out of tiles, and Barba probably played that word to use up that _W_ before the game is over.

Sonny thinks nothing of it, and then it’s Barba’s turn again, and he uses that same W that’s on the board to spell another word.

_LEWD_

This word gives Sonny pause, but he’s still not fully convinced Barba is doing it on purpose. Sure, Barba’s hand has moved from Sonny’s knee to his upper thigh, fingers trailing along Sonny’s inseam, but that doesn’t prove anything. Barba is always handsy. He’s always groping Sonny, every chance he gets.

Plus, Barba got a double word score for that one, so Sonny decides to shrug it off and keep playing.

_DEVOUR_

This one’s a little harder to shrug off, especially since Barba appears to be licking his fork a little too provocatively.

Sonny knows just how to respond.

**CHAIR**

Barba sighs, apparently disappointed by Sonny’s unimaginative word choice.

Sonny tries not to laugh.

He’s curious to see how long Barba can sustain this. What other words Barba’s dirty mind can come up with, based on the letters available. There’s one last remaining triple word score, and there’s a _V_ still missing from the board, and the _J_ hasn’t been used either, and Sonny knows Barba has them ‘cause he doesn’t, and Sonny wants to see just how creative Barba can get.

_LUST_

Not that creative, apparently, but straight to the point.

“Come on Barba, seriously? Playing a word for four friggin’ points? I’m offended.”

Barba chuckles.

Barba wraps his arms around Sonny’s waist, curling into Sonny’s chest, and he presses a kiss at the base of Sonny’s neck, near the shirt collar. 

Sonny’s arm automatically goes around Barba’s shoulders, embracing him. Holding him.

It’s instinct.

Protectiveness.

“I’ve already won, Sonny. You’ve got four tiles left and I know for a fact two of them are Is. I still haven’t used my _J_ and I got just the word to get that triple word score. Going by the state of the board right now, maybe you can still play a couple of two-letter words, like ‘it’ and ‘in’, but that’s pretty much all you can do. We could drag this out until you run out of tiles, but what’s the point?” 

Sonny is only mildly concerned that he’s getting a boner as Barba whispers in his ear about Scrabble tiles.

He blames Barba’s hand on his belly.

Barba’s breath on his neck.

Barba’s lips, they ease the sting of defeat as they drag across Sonny’s skin.

“So, what, you figured you’d start spelling dirty words to get me to concede? To get this over with faster?”

Barba starts undoing the top buttons of Sonny’s shirt, licking the skin as more of it appears.

“Yes.”

Straight to the point.

Sonny wants to complain, but for the first few seconds all he can muster is a low moan.

“That’s not… That’s not in the spirit of the game, counselor. You’re supposed to finish th… the game.”

Barba’s shoulders shake, his laughter bouncing off of Sonny’s chest in bursts of warm breath.

“Come on, Sonny. It’s over. Admit it. It’s okay. You put up a good fight. It’s not your fault I excel at most things.”

Sonny slips his fingers under Barba’s sleeve, tracing the muscles, feeling Barba’s bicep.

“Most? Since when did you get humble, Barba? Is there anything you don’t excel at?”

Barba presses a long kiss near Sonny’s collarbone.

“Communication.”

Sonny smiles.

As far as Barba’s non-apologies go, this one is top notch. Barba is actually acknowledging the problem. Vaguely, and using only one word, but still.

Sonny is glad. He just wishes he could see Barba’s face, but Barba seems determined to keep kissing his n-

“I’m sorry. I should have told you about the threats. A long time ago. And about disclosing, I should have asked you before I signed anything. I’m sorry.”

Barba never apologizes.

When Barba gives Sonny a real reason to be mad, which doesn’t happen that often but it does happen, he never apologizes.

Except he just did.

Sonny is _this_ close to pushing Barba away, just to get a glimpse of his face.

Barba is trying to communicate, right now, and Sonny wants to see.

Sonny doesn’t push Barba away.

Sonny pulls him closer.

Barba is trying to open up.

That’s rare.

For once, Barba isn’t being sarcastic. He’s not acting like nothing’s wrong. Barba isn’t hiding his feelings, though he’s still hiding his face, and Sonny squeezes him tighter.

Sonny is trying to come up with something to say, something funny, preferably, something to make Barba feel less self-conscious, when Barba starts kissing his way up Sonny’s neck.

By the time Barba finds Sonny’s lips, every single thought has flown out of Sonny’s head.

All Sonny can think about is how much he loves Barba, as he feels Barba’s stubble against his chin and Barba’s hands against his chest and Barba’s tongue inside his mouth.

Sonny loves Barba.

Sonny would love to keep kissing him, just like this, but their current position has got to be hell on Barba’s neck, so Sonny tries to get them both horizontal, so they can make out a little more comfortably.

He doesn’t even mind that their Scrabble game will be technically left unfinished.

Sonny was losing anyway.

Sonny tries to maneuver their bodies accordingly, but Barba resists.

Barba pulls away, and Sonny finally gets a good look at his face, and Barba looks serious, he looks like he wants to talk, Barba looks like he has something more to say, and Sonny is more than willing to listen, so th-

Oh.

Barba turns his back to Sonny, shifting his body lower. His feet bump Sonny’s knees in the process, flip flops forgotten on the floor, and Sonny moves out of the way, right to the edge of the cushion, to give Barba more room to get comfortable.

It takes a few seconds, but Barba finally settles, lying face down, head resting on a pillow, propped up against the arm of the couch.

Sonny starts rubbing the back of Barba’s right calf before he even knows he’s doing it.

The first time Barba did this, the first time Barba wordlessly asked for a back rub, just like he does everything wordlessly, Sonny tried to sit on the coffee table.

All he wanted was for Barba to have enough room to stretch out.

It took about five seconds for Barba to start muttering that Sonny was going to break it, and that it was very expensive, and that Sonny couldn’t afford to replace it, and that his coffee table was meant for delicate glassware and books on nineteenth century photography, not Sonny’s ass.

Barba stopped complaining as soon as Sonny’s hands met the small of his back.

Barba started complaining again, about ten seconds later, at which point Sonny moved back to the couch. It was a snug fit, but neither of them complained.

They do this all the time, now.

Sonny moves a little closer, for better access. Sonny doesn’t even have to touch. The tension in Barba’s back is clearly visible. Barba’s shoulders are tight, hunched, even as he’s lying down.

It would be easy to attribute this to the death threats.

To fear.

The truth is, Barba’s back is always a bundle of tension.

Even on a good day.

And this is a good day.

Sonny knows what he knows.

Sonny starts low.

Sonny puts his hands right above Barba’s ass, tempting as it is to start even lower, and he starts applying pressure.

Barba lets out a deep moan, as soon as Sonny hits the spot.

Barba will never admit it, probably for fear of sounding old, but he’s starting to have some minor back issues and Sonny has noticed.

Sonny is observant like that.

Mostly because his eyes never stray too far from Barba’s backside.

Sonny has noticed how Barba bends a little cautiously, how he sometimes sits with a little groan, how he’s always slouching at home, but never in his office, because Assistant District Attorney Rafael Barba always needs to look regal and imposing and taller than he actually is.

When Barba is at home, he can be himself. He wears flip flops, or he’s on his bare feet, because he doesn’t mind that Sonny’s taller than him. He slouches all the time, because he doesn’t mind if Sonny sees his less than perfect posture. He groans feely, because he doesn’t mind Sonny knowing that his body is getting creakier with age.

Sonny likes that.

Sonny lifts up Barba’s t-shirt, just a little.

His own t-shirt, actually, as worn by Barba.

Barba’s t-shirt.

It’s Barba’s t-shirt now.

Everything Sonny has, it’s Barba’s now.

Sonny himself, too.

Sonny belongs to Barba, Sonny loves Barba, and every time they do something domestic Sonny wants to blurt it out, but he doesn’t, he won’t, and he’s losing focus, and he loves how the aquamarine t-shirt makes Barba’s skin look darker, just like it makes Barba’s eyes look greener, and Sonny takes a deep breath.

Focus.

Sonny puts his hands on Barba’s skin.

Barba feels warm.

Sonny slides his hands higher and higher on Barba’s back, pushing up the fabric as he goes, and it’s very hard to resist a few softer touches in-between the firmer strokes.

Sonny doesn’t resist.

He lets himself touch.

A stray caress of Barba’s love handles, or a fleeting graze of Barba’s ribcage, or a light brush of the faint hairs scattered on Barba’s back.

Sonny likes to touch.

Sonny goes even higher, his hands slipping under Barba’s t-shirt, and he finally starts working on Barba’s shoulders.

Barba’s moans are so low and so constant, they almost sound like purring.

Sonny likes that too.

Sonny likes how the sounds Barba is making seem to depend on the touch of his hands.

How Barba moans louder when Sonny presses down hard.

How Barba sighs quietly when Sonny uses his fingertips to trace Barba’s spine.

It doesn’t take long for the tension in Barba’s shoulders to start evaporating.

It always comes back, but Sonny has long resigned himself to that fact.

All Sonny can do is be grateful Barba is relaxed now, right now, on this couch, body squeezed between Sonny’s hips and the back pillows.

“Still want to be an ADA?”

Oh.

Barba _does_ have something more to say.

Sonny supposes it’s easier to talk when they’re not face to face.

Sonny keeps touching.

“I’ve been thinking about it.”

Barba hums.

“I heard there’s an opening in Brooklyn.”

Sonny wishes he could see Barba’s expression, but Barba’s face is half-obscured by the pillow.

He’s probably trying to avoid meeting Sonny’s eyes.

It’s easier.

Whatever keeps Barba talking.

After all, they’ve talked about this face-to-face too. Many times. About Sonny becoming an ADA someday.  

The first time Sonny discussed this with Barba, they weren’t even dating yet. It was back when Sonny had just joined SVU, and he didn’t know Barba very well, and every other word out of his mouth was ‘Fordham.’ Barba asked him about his plans, probably out of curiosity, and a naïve and good-natured Sonny made the mistake of excitedly saying, ‘I wanna be an ADA. Just like you, counselor.’

Barba laughed in Sonny’s face and said, ‘You want to be me when you grow up? You might want to aim a little lower.’

Barba kept laughing at Sonny, he kept saying stuff like ‘Seldom,’ and ‘Booyah, Fordham Law,’ and ‘Save it for night school,’ until one day he stopped.

Until, one day, Barba started saying stuff like, ‘It pains me to say this, but you’re right, Carisi,’ and ‘Not your call. But you’re right,’ and ‘You’re going to take up medicine after you pass the bar?’

And then Barba said, ‘Thank you, that was a tell,’ and ‘You did a good job, Carisi,’ and ‘Let’s go somewhere, for a drink,’ and ‘Come with me.’

And now Barba is saying, ‘There’s an opening in Brooklyn,’ like Sonny could actually get that job, like Barba thinks Sonny has what it takes to become an ADA, like Barba has faith in him.

Sonny thinks that may be all he needs.

Barba’s faith.

In him.

Sonny starts pressing his hands between Barba’s shoulder blades. Barba flinches, as always, muscles seizing up for a few seconds before relaxing again.

Sonny exhales.

Sonny would love to become an ADA, just like Barba, he’d love to help victims from a different position, but he can’t leave SVU.

Sonny doesn’t want to leave.

Dodds didn’t get to leave.

Why should Sonny?

Dodds only left SVU in a coffin. Maybe that’s how they all should leave. Maybe that’s how they all _will_ leave. Maybe that’s the only way _to_ leave, for a good cop.

Maybe cops don’t get to quit. Maybe they don’t get to leave their brothers and sisters behind and get a different job, like anything could ever compare to the sense of duty they get from carrying that badge.

An oath is forever.

Sonny keeps touching.

“The thing is, counselor, I took an oath to protect and serve, so I don’t wanna leave. Not now, anyway. After what happened to Dodds, it just… It doesn’t feel right.”

It doesn’t.

Sonny can’t leave.

Manhattan SVU is his family.

Sonny owes everything to Liv. She’s the only one who trusted him. The only one who gave him a chance, after half a dozen transfers. She’s the only one who was willing to teach him. To recognize that he needed to be taught.

Liv needs him now.

She lost Amaro a year ago, and now she lost Dodds, and she’s hurting, and the squad is getting smaller and smaller and Sonny can’t leave.

Amanda needs him too, and not just for the healthy meals and the free babysitting.

Fin, well, Fin probably does need Sonny for the free babysitting, or he will after his grandkid is born, and Sonny can’t leave.

They all need Sonny, and Sonny needs them.

Sonny’s never had this before.

A family that’s not by blood.

Not like this.

“I get it. In the end, we’re all just passing through.”

Sonny isn’t sure what Barba means by that.

It’s either something philosophical, about Dodds dying, about all of them, dying, about all of them ‘passing through’ this life, or it’s about Sonny leaving.

About Sonny saying, ‘Not now.’

If it’s the latter, then Barba doesn’t get it.

Barba takes ‘not now’ to mean ‘later.’

To Sonny, ‘not now’ means ‘especially not now.’

Sonny isn’t passing through.

Sonny wants to stay.

“I’m not. I’m not passing through. I mean, maybe at SVU, yeah. Maybe. I don’t know. But not with y-”

“I’m always passing through, Sonny. My whole life. Different boroughs, different DA’s offices, different boyfriends, different girlfriends, different apartments. This is my fifth apartment in twelve years. Did you know that?”

Sonny didn’t.

Sonny didn’t kn-

“I used to work at the Brooklyn DA’s office. I’m sure you know that. They’re good people, there. You’d fit right in. I could make some calls. They’d be lucky to have you.”

Sonny tries to keep his hands steady, to keep the pressure even as he massages Barba’s shoulders.

Happy as he is to get Barba’s approval, moved as he is, he wishes he could go back to what Barba was saying about the apartments and the girlfriends and about life before they met.

Sonny likes it when Barba shares.

When Barba trusts him with information like that.

Especially when it means they have more things in common.

“I know what that’s like. To always feel like you’re passin’ through. I worked Homicide, at first. For a couple of years. It wasn’t good for me. I couldn’t… You can’t help the dead, you know? So I moved to SVU, and I got bounced from borough to borough. Nobody wanted to keep me. I couldn’t even make it on Staten Island, where my accent’s normal.”

Barba chuckles softly.

“All in all, I went through six precincts in three years. And then I made my way to Manhattan. And Liv kept me. It’s been over two years now, and I’m still here.”

Barba’s breathing is slow and deep.

“You can’t stay just because you’re grateful to Liv, Sonny. Yes, she kept you. You feel like you owe her. That’s fine. But you can’t make decisions about your future based on gratitude. You should think about yourself.”

_‘I am,’_ Sonny doesn’t say.

_‘I love being a cop,’_ he doesn’t say.

_‘I am thinking about myself, but I’m also thinking about Liv, and Amanda, and Fin,’_ he doesn’t say.

_‘I’m thinking about Dodds, dying.’_

_‘I’m thinking about you, too._

That’s what Sonny doesn’t say.

“I am.”

That’s all that comes out.

Barba sighs.

“Forget what everyone else wants for you. What do you want?”

Sonny doesn’t think there’s a difference.

“I want to be here. For them. For Liv. For the squad. For everybody.”

_‘For you,’_ Sonny doesn’t say.

_‘I want to be here so I can protect you.’_

_‘I want to be here because you’re here.’_

_‘I love you,’_ Sonny doesn’t say.

He never s-

“What happened to Dodds, it was tragic. No one deserves that. You don’t deserve that. You don’t owe anybody anything, Sonny. And you don’t have to feel guilty. Don’t think you have to stay, just to make up for SVU’s loss. That’s not how this works. If you want to make up for his death, you stay alive. You go to Brooklyn. Get a nice office. Leave the guns and the bullets behind.”

Sonny is dying to lean down and place a kiss on Barba’s exposed back.

He resists the urge.

If he did it, he wouldn’t be able to stop at one kiss, and then this conversation would end.

Sonny isn’t ready for that yet.

Communication.

That’s rare.

Barba knows Sonny feels guilty, and he’s offering absolution.

Barba is worried about Sonny meeting the same fate as Dodds, and he’s offering a way out.

Barba is trying to protect Sonny, even though he’s the one with the target on his back. Even though his nice office isn’t doing much to shield him from danger. Even though being an ADA only seems to draw the bullets closer.

Sonny is worried about Barba too, but he doesn’t want t-

“Maybe it’d be better to start someplace new. Where no one knows you. Maybe it’d be easier. Simpler.”

Oh.

Sonny suspects Barba isn’t talking about that spot in Brooklyn anymore.

Sonny thinks Barba is talking about himself now.

Maybe this isn’t about Sonny leaving.

Maybe it’s Barba who wants to leave.

Sonny hadn’t considered that.

Maybe Barba has had enough, and he wants to leave.

There’s the political pressures, and the constant friction with 1PP, and there’s the fact he’s been getting death threats for ten months, and he has so many enemies that he can’t even narrow down the suspect list to the double digits.

Maybe Barba has had enough.

Sonny understands that.

Sonny also understands that Barba would never leave.

Not in a million years.

Sonny understands this is a fantasy for Barba. Maybe a wish, too, but one for another life. Barba speaks of guilt and gratitude, but Sonny isn’t the only one letting his feelings guide his decisions. Sonny isn’t the only one who doesn’t want to leave Olivia behind.

Not now, anyway.

Barba may not technically be a part of the squad, but he is part of the family.

Barba can act like he’s a lone wolf, like he’s detached and independent, but Sonny knows better.

Barba depends on Liv for her friendship, Barba depends on Manhattan SVU, because they’re the only cops he can trust, Barba depends on the Manhattan DA for the flexibility required to do his job, and to do it well. The DA, she always supports his choices. Sonny knows Barba doesn’t take that lightly. Barba owes her. Barba wouldn’t leave her behind, either.

Barba may claim he’s always passing through, but he wouldn’t leave any of them behind.

Guilt.

Gratitude.

Sonny and Barba, they have a lot in common.

Brooklyn.

They both worked there, with varying degrees of success.

Maybe they could go back.

Together.

Maybe they could both transfer to Brooklyn. Maybe Barba could fill that opening at the DA’s office. Maybe Barba could benefit from a change of scenery. A return to a happier place, where he had a better time. Maybe Sonny could make a triumphant return to Brooklyn SVU, two years older and considerably wiser.

Maybe in another life.

It’s not lost on Sonny that, even in this highly hypothetical scenario, he still sees himself as a cop.

Sonny digs his fingers into Barba’s shoulders.

Sonny never gets to do that, except when they’re on this couch for one of their impromptu massage sessions. It’s always the other way around, Barba’s fingers leaving marks on Sonny’s back as Sonny sinks into him. 

“I don’t know, Barba. Starting over? From scratch? It doesn’t sound easy to me. But then, I like it when people know me. I’m not secretive. Unlike some people I know.”

Sonny can feel Barba’s shoulders shaking.

Laughter.

Sonny can feel Barba’s laughter under his fingertips.

“Secretive? Me? I practically sent out a news bulletin to announce the joyous fact I’m dating Dominick Carisi Jr. As of today, the entire DA’s office, where people _do_ know me, and the entire precinct, every single person we work with, they all know about my love life. You call that secretive? What else am I supposed to share? I already revealed the single most embarrassing thing about myself.”

Sonny laughs too.

Sonny hears yet another unspoken ‘I love you.’

That’s the single most embarrassing thing about Barba.

That he loves Sonny.

That he loves anybody.

Barba doesn’t like people knowing that.

Knowing that he has a heart.

Sonny can’t resist a quick kiss, not this time.

Sonny bends down and kisses the nape of Barba’s neck.

He’s happy to feel the muscles relaxed under his lips.

He’s even happier when Barba turns around, just a little.

When Barba shows just a little more of his face.

Like he’s waiting for something.

Asking.

Sonny never could stop at one kiss, so he kisses Barba on the cheek, too.

Barba settles back down as soon as Sonny’s lips leave his skin.

Sonny can barely see his profile, that pillow still concealing most of Barba’s face, but Sonny thinks he’s smiling.

“See, Barba? There’s your problem. You were always so secretive, and the one time you decided to share you went with a doozy. Now that’s the only thing anybody knows about you. That you’re datin’ me. That’s not good for your image. That’s why you should have cultivated better workplace relationships. Why you should’ve opened up to your colleagues a little more. Think about it.”

Barba keeps laughing.

“Right. I should have been more like you. Blathering on about every single detail of my life, to anyone who’d listen. Bombarding them with irrelevant information, until I bored them all to death. If only I had been more open, like you, everyone would have lost interest in my personal life years ago. You’re a genius, Sonny. Why didn’t I think of that?”

Sonny smiles.

“I don’t talk about every detail of m-”

“Please, Sonny. You never shut up. Everyone knows everything there is to know about Sonny Carisi, SVU detective slash attorney slash photographer slash chef slash armchair psychologist slash amateur doctor.

“Everyone knows you went to night school, because you spent your first year at SVU giving us weekly updates on the progress of your term papers. Everyone knows you got your degree from Fordham Law, because you showed us so many graduation pictures you might as well have worn your cap and gown at work. Everyone knows you passed the bar, and _I_ know you gave Rollins your ID number so she’d be able to check in case you weren’t available when the results came in.

“Everyone knows you like the Mets and you love to read and you’re a great cook, hell everyone’s _had_ your cooking, because you’re always bringing what you call ‘leftovers’ to the precinct. Like an intact tray of lasagna could ever be considered ‘leftovers.’

“Everyone knows you’re great with kids, and dogs, and cats, and pretty much every living creature. Everyone knows you almost became a priest, and you only escaped a life of celibacy, to my good fortune, when you realized your feelings for the pitcher on your junior varsity baseball team were less than chaste.

“Everyone knows _all_ about your sisters who were thrilled when you came out, and then proceeded to gang up on that kid who tried to bully you in high school, until he was reduced to tears. Including Bella, who was twelve at the time.

“Everyone knows all about Gina, the kindergarten teacher who’s been engaged eight times and is even better with kids than you are. Everyone knows about Bella, the stay-at-home mom with the formerly deadbeat boyfriend who turned his life around with her support. Everyone knows about Theresa, the sales assistant who’s hoping to ensnare one of her rich customers and is the only Carisi to be blessed with a good fashion sense. ~~~~

“Everyone knows about your mom’s cooking blog, because you keep sending us e-mails with links to her latest recipe, and you keep asking us to follow her, like that’s something any of us would do, like Fin or Rollins would follow a cooking blog to get fun ideas for their next Sunday brunch.

“Everyone knows about your mom going out of her mind now that your dad retired after forty years of working as a carpenter, because he can’t let go, and he’s taken over half of their garage to set up a makeshift work station, and he keeps using the circular saw that’s really loud, apparently, and the shop vac, whatever the hell that is.

“I know all this, just like everyone else knows all this, because you _do_ talk about every detail of your life, Sonny. Incessantly.”

Sonny’s jaw dropped somewhere around ‘junior varsity baseball’ and he still hasn’t managed to pick it back up.

Barba knows all this.

And, no matter what he says, ‘everyone else’ doesn’t.

Not most of it, anyway. They _do_ all know about the cooking blog. Putting the word out for _Tricia’s Treats,_ that’s just Sonny’s duty as a good son.

“You, uh. You’re actually listening when I talk about that stuff? I always thought you tuned me out.”

Barba snorts.

“That _stuff,_ boring as it may be, and it’s _really_ boring, is your life, Sonny. So yes, I’m listening.”

Sonny’s life.

Sonny’s heart beats faster.

Barba remains totally relaxed under Sonny’s hands.

Barba’s breathing is slow.

He’s calm.

Like he didn’t just admit he cares about the inanities which constitute Sonny’s life.

Barba is Sonny’s life.

“Yeah? Even when I’m talking about my dad’s shop vac? Which is pretty self-explanatory, by the way, it’s th-”

“I didn’t ask you what it was, Sonny.”

Sonny cracks up.

Barba listens to him.

Always.

Barba lov-

“But yes. Even then. Listen, Sonny. You overshare. And that’s fine. I’m used to it. I’m just saying, we can’t all do that. Some of us like to maintain a little mystery. You don’t. I practically know everything about you.”

Sonny starts moving his hands lower, fingers splayed on Barba’s ribcage, feeling the soft skin around Barba’s sides.

There’s one thing Barba doesn’t know.

It’s nothing major, it’s not a big secret, but it’s been at the forefront of Sonny’s mind all night. Ever since that nasty encounter with the homophobic cop downstairs.

Even before then.

Ever since Sonny saw Barba’s signature on the disclosure papers.

The only reason Sonny hasn’t told Barba already, is because he doesn’t particularly enjoy reliving the experience. Still, he figures now is a good time to talk about it.

To share.

Now that they’re not face-to-face.

It’s easier.

“I got some mystery for ya, Barba. When I was still an officer, out on Staten Island, I got found out. About being gay. I wasn’t outed, not publicly, but my captain figured it out. He was a relic. A hundred years old. Really old school, in good ways and bad. And I, uh. I had made the mistake of getting involved with my partner. Not my brightest idea, and that’s saying somethin’.

“Our captain, he was pretty sharp, and he’d seen it all, and me and my partner were both young and clueless and we weren’t being careful. So our captain figured it out. Wasn’t hard. He called us into his office, to confront us, and for the first five minutes I swear I thought he was chewin’ us out for breaking the rules and dating within the department. I was too naïve, I guess.

“And then he started talkin’ about how we were an embarrassment to the shield, and how we should be ashamed of ourselves. He said that, back in his day, this kind of _‘sickening behavior’_ wouldn’t be tolerated, but today’s society was too politically correct. He said we were lucky he was older than dirt ‘cause otherwise he’d kick both our asses.

“He would’ve fired us if he could, but he just reassigned us. Immediately. Separated us. Now, I wasn’t devastated or nothing. I was already lookin’ to get promoted, so I figured I’d just make detective and leave the whole thing behind me. I was actually hoping to get transferred, ‘cause then me and my partner wouldn’t have to break up. I thought we could keep dating if we were working at different precincts.

“Talk about naïve. My partner, my boyfriend of, like, nine months, he got scared back into the closet, basically. I don’t blame him. He was a rookie, fresh out of the academy, and he said he didn’t wanna ruin his career with the NYPD before it even started. He transferred out to Queens. Last I heard, he was still an officer. Married with two kids. Uh. So that didn’t work out. But still, I wasn’t devastated. I had my promotion coming. I’d worked hard for it.

“Problem was, my captain wouldn’t give me a recommendation. Even though I had a great arrest record, and I’d put in enough time, and I had my college degree, plus I was already enrolled in law school, so I was the only cop in the whole precinct with postgrad credits. But I waited some more. I figured I still had to bide my time. Except I kept getting passed over, so I finally worked up the nerve to ask him about it.

“He flat-out said he was never gonna give me a recommendation, ‘cause he thought I lacked good moral character.”

Sonny still remembers the look on his old Captain’s face, all those years ago.

Disgust.

And then he remembers the look on Liv’s face, the smile on her face when she showed him the disclosure papers this morning.

Sonny is very lucky.

Sonny knows just how lucky he is, as he keeps touching Barba’s warm skin.

Sonny ponders that for a little too long.

He doesn’t speak for several moments. He just focuses on rolling Barba’s skin between his fingers, pinching and caressing.

Sonny can feel Barba tensing up again.

He can feel Barba stirring.

Barba actually lifts his head, looking over his shoulder until he can make eye contact.

Barba looks indignant.

Barba’s probably had a similar experience or three.

They all have.

“And then what happened?”

Barba says this through his teeth.

Sonny gently tries to push him back down, but Barba won’t budge.

Sonny almost regrets sharing this. Getting Barba all wound up, just when he had gotten perfectly relaxed.

Sonny wants to soothe him.

Sonny is looking into Barba’s eyes now.

It’s still surprisingly easy to talk.

“I wouldn’t give up. I was too young to feel fear, I guess. Or maybe I couldn’t take the injustice. Maybe I wasn’t willing to stay a closeted patrol cop my whole life. So I kicked up a fuss with my captain. I said I was gonna contact LGBT rights organizations, maybe a specialized lawyer, too, and tell them about the discrimination I was suffering. I said I was gonna tell them how he was holding me back, how he was recommendin’ officers with half my qualifications instead of me, just ‘cause I was gay.

“He, uh. He threatened to report me, for violating NYPD policy and dating my partner. So… Then I said I was gonna contact the media. With evidence of his bigotry. We were both bluffing, probably. He couldn’t prove anything and neither could I, but I played along. I said I was willing to take this all the way.

“I said that, maybe back in his day, his sickening behavior would be tolerated, but in today’s politically correct society, something like that could make national news. I said his homophobia would reflect badly on the NYPD brass. I said it’d be a shame if he were to face disciplinary action, right when he was nearin’ retirement age.”

Barba smirks.

He looks proud.

Probably because that’s a move straight out of the Barba playbook, and Sonny pulled it before they even met.

Barba lies back down, rests his face against the pillow.

Barba’s body is relaxed again.

Just like that.

Sonny keeps massaging Barba's back, sometimes sliding his hands under Barba’s t-shirt and sometimes letting the soft fabric come between them. If Sonny’s honest, this stopped being a backrub ten minutes ago. Now it’s more like a series of lazy caresses.

Barba doesn’t seem to mind.

“So yeah. My captain gave me a glowing recommendation, probably to get me out of his hair, I made detective, I got transferred to Homicide, and the rest is history. And, uh. I didn’t… I was never exactly in the closet, I never lied about it, but I wasn’t shouting it from the rooftops, either. Not at first. It took me a while. It was only after I started workin’ SVU that I really felt comfortable. Like nobody was judging me, you know?

“Anyway. So now that we disclosed, I feel really good about it. Proud. I mean, everybody at the station already knew I was gay, it’s just… Now it’s official. I signed my name to it. Being out, as a cop, and not havin’ to worry about ruining my career, that means a lot. Being part of a squad that’s so accepting. I never had that before. That’s why I got kinda overexcited about the disclosure papers. That’s why I kept askin’ you about it. I didn’t mean to bug you.”

Barba stays quiet for a second.

_“That’s_ why you got overexcited? Not because of my grand gesture?”

Sonny chuckles.

It was a little of both, but Sonny doesn’t know how to say, ‘I already knew how you felt,’ without at least indirectly acknowledging Barba’s unspoken feelings.

Or his own, for that matter.

Sure, Sonny felt a mix of happiness and relief when he realized Barba wanted to tell everyone they’re together.

Sure, Sonny is feeling a newfound sense of commitment now that they’ve put it in writing.

Still.

Signing those papers didn’t change that much between them.

Disclosure, by definition, is about other people.

What Sonny has with Barba, in private, just the two of them, that’s never been in question.

No grand gesture needed.

Sonny knows what he knows.

Sonn-

“And I don’t appreciate the fact you’re making me apologize again, Sonny, but I’m sorry. I never considered that. I should have. This was important to you. Coming out officially, on your own terms. It doesn’t matter that everyone knew. It’s different to sign a legal document. Of course it is. We should have discussed it.”

Sonny thinks he and Barba should have all their conversations like this.

Minimal eye contact, a few scattered kisses, and constant touching.

Barba is especially forthcoming when he’s face down.

Sonny knew that already, but Barba’s previous such declarations have never been so candid. Up until now, the most sincere thing Barba ever said in this position was, ‘Stay the night.’ A whispered invitation, about a month into their relationship, while Sonny’s fingers were digging into his hips, and Sonny was thrusting long and hard, and Barba’s face was obscured by a different pillow.

Sonny is used to looking at Barba’s back and searching for clues.

Sonny thinks he can get a better read on Barba’s feelings with his hands.

Sonny sees more of Barba when he’s not looking.

Barba can control his words, his expressions, but he can’t control the way his body tenses every time he’s upset or irritated or preoccupied.

Or the way his body relaxes every time Sonny touches him.

“Nah. Don’t worry about it, Barba. It’s fine. I like surprises. Plus, I didn’t have to sign when I was in Liv’s office. I could have brought the papers home, I could’ve waited until I talked to you ab-”

“That’s right. You could have waited. Why didn’t you?”

Sonny smirks.

The tables have turned.

Now it’s Barba asking about Sonny’s feelings.

Not in so many words, of course.

Sonny is just glad Barba seems to have missed the fact Sonny said ‘home’ again, when he was talking about Barba’s apartment.

“No point in wasting time, counselor. I wanted to sign. And we did talk about it, just after the fact. Same difference. I still told you why it meant a lot. I still told you my story. And now you literally know everything about me.”

Barba sighs.

“Is this the part where I reciprocate? Where I tell you my story? Something deeply personal I’ve never told anyone?”

Sonny knows better than to expect that.

“Nope. You don’t have to. I know plenty about you too, Barba. You’re not as mysterious as you think.”

Barba laughs.

Sonny wants to flip him over, to kiss him properly, but Barba looks so comfortable and peaceful and Sonny lets him be.

“Right, Sonny. You know _plenty._ You know all about my schoolyard scuffles in the Bronx. When I used to, how did you put it? Open my big mouth and rely on others to do my dirty work?”

Sonny frowns.

He’s surprised Barba is bringing up their fight, now, after almost a week.

Now, when they’re having such a pleasant, intimate conversation.

The thing is, Barba doesn’t feel mad. Barba’s shoulders, Barba’s back, they don’t feel like he’s mad. Sonny can tell. Barba doesn’t sound mad, either, but Sonny doesn’t always trust Barba’s voice.

Sonny thinks Barba is up to something.

Barba probably feels uncomfortable with their current level of intimacy, especially after signing those papers, and he wants to say something rude, just to make sure Sonny doesn’t get the wrong idea.

Or the right idea.

Barba’s act is not very convincing, not when he keeps humming happily every time he feels Sonny’s hands press down a little harder, but Sonny is willing to humor him.

Besides, this gives Sonny a great opportunity to apologize.

With everything that’s happened, with Dodds, with the funeral, with the death threats, with Heredio’s arrest, Sonny hasn’t had a chance to apologize for the things he said when he first found out. When he was too furious to think straight.

Too scared.

Sonny feels guilty, for saying what he said about Barba’s childhood.

“Hey, how ‘bout letting _me_ apologize for a change, huh, Barba? I’m sorry I said that. It wasn’t my place. I don’t know what it was like for you, growing up. Other than what you’ve told me. I shouldn’t have said anyth-”

“No need to apologize, Sonny. You weren’t wrong. I did grow up mouthing off to everybody, recklessly, and getting my ass kicked unless someone else was there to stop it. A scenario that’s all too familiar, even today.”

Sonny instinctively lays his hands on Barba’s shoulders. Over the t-shirt. Just touching. Not moving.

Covering Barba.

Protectiveness.

In another life, if they had met as kids, Sonny knows he would have been the skinny sidekick constantly taking the punches meant for Barba. He would have been the lanky school kid, a couple of years younger than everybody else and always trying to make up for it. Sonny would have been that one kid, always standing off to the side, right by Barba’s side, pointing and snickering as Barba would mouth off to kids three times their size.

It’s hard to imagine Barba as a kid.

“Yeah, well. I still shouldn’t have said anything, Barba. I had no r-”

“Do you remember the Muñoz scandal?”

Sonny does.

It was before his time at Manhattan SVU, but he remembers reading about it. He remembers watching the late night shows lambasting Muñoz, a popular mayoral candidate, for what appeared to be a sexting scandal, at least at first. Sonny remembers laughing about it with his law school buddies, until it was revealed some of the recipients of those texts were minors.

Sonny isn’t sure why Barba is bringing this up. Why Barba is t-

“Alex Muñoz and I grew up together. The two of us, and Eddie Garcia. He was the ex C.O. who was originally implicated in the scandal, before it became clear he was covering for Alex. Out of loyalty. We were always loyal to each other. We were brothers. I never had siblings, but I didn’t need any. I had Alex and Eddie. They used to call us the Three Musketeers of Jerome Avenue. One for all, and all for one.

“All for Alex, usually. He was our leader. He always inspired loyalty. Always. Eddie was the muscle. The one helping me hold on to my lunch money when I was little. The one getting me out of trouble when I got older, every time I would piss off the wrong kid or the wrong gang member.

“When we were growing up, there was always a turf war, one gang or another always trying to take over our neighborhood, trying to recruit. They used to approach Eddie all the time. Because we were friends, and because I was always too smart for my own good, they would approach me as well. They’d say I could be an asset.

“I was never tempted. I always wanted to get out. I never wanted that to be my life, but saying no wasn’t always easy. The only thing I had going for me was school. But it was enough. I was working towards a scholarship. I had dreams. I never felt I was out of options, and I kept telling Eddie the same thing. I kept telling him we could make something of ourselves. But saying that to Eddie was one thing. How do you say this to a gang member without sounding condescending?

“I remember one time, I was fifteen, and they had me and Eddie cornered, badgering us to work for them. Getting kinda rough. They kept saying, ‘Don’t be pussies. It’s just one job.’ As if it’s ever just one job. I remember I went up to the biggest guy, and I said, and this is roughly translated, I said, ‘Thank you for this generous offer, but we don't have time to discuss it right now. We have an appointment to get to. Your mother is expecting us.’

“He got so mad he pulled a switchblade on us. We ran off. Eddie still has a scar on his forearm, from where he got slashed as he shoved me out of the way. After that, Alex called a meeting with some of the lieutenants. Even as a teenager, he used to call meetings. A politician from birth. He said me and Eddie were not to be touched. He worked out a way to divvy up the neighborhood. The street corners. He brokered a deal so everyone was happy.

“I don’t know why they listened to him, but they did. We all listened to him. He single-handedly ended a turf war between rival gangs at age seventeen. He solved all our problems. That was… I mean, they were minor gangs, most of them kids themselves, but that was impressive. I…

“It wasn’t just the three of us. There was Yelina, too. She was, uh. Beautiful. Smart as a whip. Determined. Strong. Alex and I were both in love with her. For years. Vying for her affection. That incident, I think that’s what made her choose him over me. She could see Alex had more potential, as my own mother used to say.”

Barba pauses.

Sonny is listening.

This is Barba’s life.

Yo mama jokes and all.

Sonny’s hands are still on Barba’s shoulders, still not moving, and Sonny is listening.

Imagining Barba as a kid.

The more he listens, the easier it becomes.

Sonny pictures a teenage Barba, smaller than most of his friends but only physically, bigger where it counted. A smartass with a big mouth who wasn’t afraid of switchblades. A kid who grew up in the streets but made sure to keep his grades up, so he could get a scholarship and get the hell out. A kid in love, losing the girl of his dreams to his best friend and having to pretend it didn’t hurt.

Sonny keeps listening.

“That was only the beginning. Alex focused on the community. He tried to make a difference. He got involved in local politics, then state politics. He was elected State Senator. He married Yelina. He kept in touch with Eddie. Hell, he kept Eddie employed. Alex never forgot who he was.

“Me, as soon as I got into Harvard, I left all that behind. While I was still in college, I would go back to say my hellos, and see the old neighborhood. My old friends. Reminisce. But as soon as I started law school, that was it. As soon as I decided on a path for myself, I as soon as I figured out who I wanted to become, I started forgetting who I used to be.

“To quote my mother again, I forgot about the Bronx and set my sights on Park Avenue. I was too busy to visit. Too busy going to class and studying and making trips back to New York just to catch a Broadway show. Always sticking to Manhattan, never the Bronx. I was too busy vacationing on the yachts of my Harvard classmates. Rich white boys who had no idea about my past.

“That’s why I tried to help Alex, when the scandal broke. Out of guilt. I risked my own job, my own future, for his. I warned him, I told him about the investigation as it was unfolding, at first to protect Eddie and then to protect him, to make sure he’d get elected as the next mayor of New York City. Because I felt he had earned it. Because I didn’t want to be the one to take that away from him.

“That was the only time I’ve ever questioned if I’m right for this job. My conduct, during that case, it was unacceptable. Obstruction, tampering with a witness, you name it. If someone else had done half of what I did, I’d ask for their head on a platter. I’ve never felt more of a hypocrite, and trust me when I say I’ve done a lot of pretending in my life.

“And it wasn’t even because I owed him. I just didn’t want to seem petty. Jealous. Even though I was. I was _so_ jealous, and Alex knew it. When I could no longer help him, when charges were brought against him, he called me out. He accused me of sabotaging him. Of trying to get revenge, because he was more successful than me. Because he had Yelina. He said he still had the support of the old neighborhood, but everyone saw me as a sellout. The worst part was that he was right. About all of it.”

Barba stops talking again.

Sonny had no idea.

Sonny remembers reading that Barba had been involved with this case, he remembers some statements by Muñoz about Barba being his ‘old friend,’ but Sonny had dismissed that as the typical PR games politicians like to play. Sonny didn’t realize the extent of their connection.

Barba had never talked about this before.

Barba had never talked so _much_ before.

Maybe it’s because they’re official now.

Maybe Barba is feeling introspective after Dodds. After the funeral. After a brush with loss.

Maybe it’s the long massage, making Barba feel relaxed and more willing to open up.

Maybe it’s the fact Sonny shared first, and Barba wasn’t joking about reciprocity.

Maybe it’s the death threats.

Sonny thinks that might be it.

Sonny thinks maybe Barba wants Sonny to know the whole truth. The real Barba. Maybe Barba wants to tell these things to Sonny, just in case something happens.

In case Barba dies, too.

Sonny’s hands clench around Barba’s shoulders.

He doesn’t mean to do it.

“It doesn’t matter if he was right, Barba. What matters is, you did the right thing in the end.”

Barba sighs deeply.

“You can thank Amaro for that. For setting me straight. Ruthlessly, may I add.”

Sonny smiles.

Sonny misses Amaro, even though they never really saw eye to eye. Amaro had his issues, but he was a good man and a good cop. Sonny looked up to him, despite their personal relationship, or lack thereof. Sonny liked Nick.

Sonny is happy Nick was there to help Barba, before.

Before Sonny got ther-

“Anyway. That’s why… I’m not explaining this right. When I see someone like Heredio, I see the future version of all the kids I left behind. All the kids I forgot about. All the kids who stole my lunch money, all the drug runners who tried to recruit me. I see myself, too. If I didn’t have Alex and Eddie, if I didn’t have my mother and my grandmother. Maybe that would have been me. A criminal. Maybe I’d be a killer. Just like the people who are trying to kill me.

“Sometimes I think I deserve it. To die at the hands of some kid from the Bronx. Maybe that’s my punishment. For failing to help. To give back to my community. And sometimes I think maybe I should prosecute these people to the full extent of the law, because unlike me, they failed to get themselves out, and they deserve to be punished for not measuring up.

“I hate myself when I think like that. ‘If I could get out, why couldn’t they?’ That bootstraps bullshit. Everyone needs help. Alex tried to help those kids. I didn’t. Of course they resent me. I resent myself.”

Oh.

This had never occurred to Sonny.

Barba, regarding death as a rightful punishment.

Barba identifying with someone like Heredio.

Sonny may know plenty, but there’s still so much he doesn’t know about Barba.

_‘You don’t deserve to die.’_

That’s what Sonny wants to say.

He doesn’t know if he should.

He doesn’t know if he should say anything.

Sonny thinks Barba just wanted to talk, and there’s no need for an answer.

Sonny still wants to speak.

“You don’t deserve to die, Barba. You’ve done way too much good in this word. Mistakes and all. Maybe you didn’t help those specific kids, but you’ve helped a lot of people. I don’t know how the scales of justice are tipped in your head, but in my book, the balance is in your favor.”

“It d-”

“It doesn’t work that way. Yeah. I know. One good deed doesn’t erase a bad one. Mistakes weigh heavy. I know. But I’m talkin’ about your whole life. You could’ve chosen to make the big bucks. Nobody would’ve blamed you. You worked your ass off for that degree from Harvard Law, and you had every right to use it to get ahead. To make money working for violent criminals or unethical corporations, like most of your classmates are doing. Am I right, counselor?

“But you didn’t. You chose to help people for a living. To fight for them. The kids in your old neighborhood, they weren’t just gang members and juvenile delinquents. They were poor kids pressured into a life of crime. They were children bein’ abused by authority figures and not telling anybody about it. We see it all the time. Girls and boys targeted by predators ‘cause they’d make unreliable witnesses. Just like in any other neighborhood. You did help those kids. You’re still helping ‘em.”

Barba stays silent, long after Sonny is done talking.

Sonny begins to worry he overstepped.

It’s not his place to tell Barba how to feel about being an ADA, about helping people, about the Bronx.

Sonny knows that.

Sonny also knows that Barba is way too hard on himself, and sometimes he needs to hear he’s doing a good job.

Even if it’s fr-

“Thank you for that totally objective assessment of my life’s work, Sonny. Your idealistic sentimentality brings a tear to my eye.”

Barba sounds grateful.

Sarcastic as shit, but grateful.

Sonny can tell.

Barba’s words, they’re cutting.

It’s his actions that tell the real story.

It’s the way he’s breathing, slow and deep, body relaxed, shoulders barely moving underneath Sonny’s hands.

It’s the way his voice comes out, soft and warm, negating the meaning of his words the very second they’re spoken.

Barba is content.

Happy, maybe.

Barba loves Sonn-

“Anyway. There you have it. I reciprocated. You’re welcome. You can expect my next soulful confession in about two years.”

Sonny grins.

Barba actually buries his face into the pillow.

Sonny would laugh, but he doesn’t want to miss the sound of Barba’s groan.

And there it is.

Barba groans.

Barba slipped.

Years.

Barba said ‘in two years,’ like they’ll still be together by then.

They will be.

Sonny knows what he knows.

Sonny starts rubbing Barba’s back again.

The entire time Barba was talking, sharing, Sonny was practically motionless.

Now he moves.

Sonny leans down and kisses Barba’s shoulder, though the fabric, and the t-shirt is so thin and threadbare that Sonny might as well be kissing skin.

Sonny loves Barba.

Sonny moves his hands lower, from Barba’s shoulders to Barba’s ribcage, to Barba’s waist, to the small of Barba’s back, always through the fabric, but this time he doesn’t stop there.

Sonny moves his hands lower, still, and he gets a good handful of Barba’s ass. It feels full and soft through the well-worn sweatpants.

Sonny hears a quiet snort, a puff of air leaving Barba’s lips, and Liv’s orders about spending a wholesome evening flash through his mind, but Sonny thinks Barba’s ass justifies the insubordination, so h-

“I was married.”

Sonny freezes.

With his hands full-on grabbing Barba’s ass.

Sonny moves his hands a little higher, fingers going under the t-shirt now, and if his thumbs are still caressing Barba’s skin, it’s instinct.

Sonny can’t touch Barba without some affection creeping in.

He never could.

Early on, Barba would legitimately flinch and move out of the way whenever Sonny tried to touch him in a way that felt a little too tender.

Barba would say, ‘I’m not your high school girlfriend, Sonny. There’s no need to hold hands.’

Sonny would say, ‘I had a high school boyfriend, actually, and we never held hands. I’ve been trying to make up for it ever since.’

Barba would look at Sonny, his eyes softer than his words, always, and he’d still recoil but he’d always offer a kiss by way of an apology.

Sonny never gave up.

Not until Barba started leaning into his touch.

It didn’t even take that long. Barba likes to pretend, but he d-

“No one knows about it. Not even my mother. Not about the marriage. My mom knew about her, even met her a few times, but the marriage was always a secret. That’s how we wanted it. Natalia and I.

“We met at Harvard. She was a couple of years older. Smart. Smarter than me. Tough. Headstrong. Raised by a single mother, like me. Big dreams, like me. We had been part of the same social circle for years. I wouldn’t call us ‘friends.’ Antagonists, maybe. Constantly trying to one-up each other. One day, all that pent-up tension just… It was released.

“We got married six months after that. At City Hall. On a whim. We were madly in love, and we thought it’d be funny if we did something as conventional as getting married without following any of the conventions. No guests. No family. No presents. Nothing. We never told anyone. We thought we could subvert the concept of marriage. Keep in mind, Sonny, we were fools in our twenties. Incidentally, that was the last thing I ever did on a whim.”

Sonny keeps moving his fingers mindlessly.

Sonny wonders how Barba would describe him, a few years from now.

Sonny wonders if Barba would say, ‘we were madly in love.’

Sonny knows he should probably be reeling, but this new piece of information is surprisingly easy to digest. It’s not a big shock to learn that Barba experienced some sort of love-related disaster in the past. Who hasn’t?

The truth is, Sonny always suspected something to that effect. A youthful romance gone bad, resulting in Barba’s subsequent bitterness. It’s a cliché for a reason.

The wedding part, that’s a little harder to process, if only because Barba doesn’t seem like the type.

Maybe he was, Sonny realizes.

Maybe Barba was the type to get married on a whim, and he had his heart broken, and he lost that, and now it takes a month-long negotiation to arrange for a weekend away.

Sonny wonders how different Barba used to be.

It’s hard to imagine Barba at twenty-five, happy and giddy and in love.

It’s easier to imagine him wanting to ‘subvert the concept of marriage.’

That part definitely sounds like Barba. Like the same Barba who, at forty-five, refused to take Sonny out on an anniversary dinner, but took him out to a fancy restaurant three days later.

To subvert the concept of anniversaries, probably.

What Sonny really can’t figure out is why Barba is telling him now.

Or how they randomly went from talking about justice and idealism to discussing Barba’s ex-wife.

“Less than a year later, we were divorced. Right after we graduated, she started working at a big law firm as a defense attorney. I thought that was money-grabbing and vulgar, and I told her as much. Perhaps harshly. She called me a hypocrite, because all of our friends were defense attorneys and I didn’t seem to have any problems with them. She thought I shouldn’t hold her to a different standard.

“Maybe she was right. I didn’t think so at the time. I told her it _was_ different. I said friends were one thing, but it was hard for me to accept that the person I loved made a living defending murderers and rapists. The same people I was trying to put away.

“She said I was naïve and overly idealistic. She said I should reexamine my career goals, because making a good living was the whole point. She thought being an ADA was beneath me. And beneath her. She said we were married, and our goals needed to be compatible. I said our moral beliefs needed to be compatible, and that started a whole philosophical debate and, again, may I remind you we were both in our twenties and complete blowhards.

“We broke up quickly after that, but the divorce was unnecessarily drawn out. We both wanted to file first, we went through long negotiations even though the divorce was uncontested and neither of us had any assets to speak of, we went through weeks of no communication out of spite.

“We spent longer breaking up than we ever did dating. We were both too proud to admit failure. Too proud to get dumped. We were too much alike.”

Sonny nods, even though Barba can’t see him.

Sonny thinks maybe that’s why Barba is with him now. They’re nothing alike.

Except for the idealism.

Barba’s confession doesn’t seem so random anymore.

It was what Sonny said.

Barba chose to dedicate his life to helping survivors, forsaking the type of career which could have made him filthy rich.

Forsaking a marriage, too. A wife who could have made him happy.

A wife who called him naïve.

Sonny used to get called naïve, too. Sonny used to feel naïve, and young, and ridiculous for even uttering words like ‘justice’ and ‘unfair’ and ‘right,’ always in earnest. Sonny was always told to keep his head down, as a cop, and to keep his head up, as a lawyer, and focus on what ‘needed to be done.’

Sonny still gets called naïve. He has extended family, relatives who are always asking why he still bothers with the NYPD and its measly salary now that he passed the bar.

Even Barba used to call Sonny naïve. Early on. Sonny used to get defensive every time Barba chided him for focusing too much on the truth and not enough on what could actually be proven in a court of law.

It feels good to know Barba once shared those ideals. Shares them, still.

Despite what he likes people to think, Barba still sh-

“By the time the divorce was finalized, we still hadn’t told a soul. Our friends thought we were just going through a nasty breakup. Soon after that she moved to D.C. for an even better job, and we completely lost touch.

“We reconnected years later. About five years ago, I guess. It was very civil. We both apologized for our youthful misconduct. She was still in D.C., a name partner and happily remarried. She said she had a daughter who should be graduating high school right about now. Yet another reason the divorce was a good idea. Neither of us had any regrets, which was good. So. That’s about it. Now you know something deeply personal I’ve never told anyone.”

That’s true.

And Sonny didn’t even have to wait two years to hear it.

Sonny wonders if it’s weird that he doesn’t have a million questions. That he’s not curious, or confused, or even irrationally jealous about any of this.

Sonny is just glad Barba told him.

In all honesty, Sonny is also kinda glad Barba suffered this heartbreak, because it made him into a short-tempered cynic, and that’s what allowed Sonny to swoop in, twenty years later, and remind Barba what it’s like to be happy.

Barba is happy, with Sonny.

Barba is…

Barba is turning around.

Finally.

It’s a struggle, because the couch might be huge but Barba looks like he’s too mellowed out to move with any semblance of speed. Or grace, for that matter.

Sonny wants to laugh as he watches Barba bouncing sluggishly on the cushions.

Barba’s t-shirt is riding up.

Sonny’s t-shirt.

Sonny can see the hairs low on Barba’s stomach, and he wants to touch.

When Barba finally manages to turn around, he looks at Sonny, his eyes soft and wide.

“So?”

Sonny reaches for Barba’s face, and Barba leans into his touch.

Barba always leans into his touch now.

Except this time, Sonny isn’t going for a tender stroke of Barba’s cheek. This time Sonny is aiming a little higher. He’s aiming for Barba’s forehead.

“You got a fever, or somethin’, Barba? I’m getting worried here. We should get you checked out.”

Barba snorts and pulls Sonny in for a kiss, hands strong on Sonny’s shoulders.

Sonny presses his lips against Barba’s, hard, and long, an-

“That’s it? A tired joke and a kiss? No other comment?”

Sonny may not be curious, but Barba clearly is.

Sonny starts caressing Barba’s belly.

“Yeah, I don’t know. I feel like I’m supposed to say something back, but I don’t have any heartbreaking stories like that. No, wait. You know how, the first two years I was at Fordham, I dated that guy Brock? Great guy, by the way. Don’t let the name fool ya.

“Anyway, we were pretty serious, so eventually I went over to meet the parents. He was from Staten Island too. I thought I found my soulmate, but that’s probably ‘cause he was the only guy I met in Manhattan who never made fun of my accent. Problem was, his dad was a die-hard Yankees fan, and baseball season was just startin’, so Brock told me to pretend I liked the Yankees too, to make a good impression.

“And I loved him, so I did. I nodded along as his dad kept dissing the Mets throughout dinner, ‘cause that’s just my luck. I acted like I didn’t mind, but deep down I was really hurt. I started resenting Brock for asking me to lie. I think that’s what led to the downfall of our relationship. I mean, we broke up, like, a year later, but that was the beginning of the end. The trust was broken, you know? I felt betrayed.”

A small smile forms on Barba’s lips.

“Of course you did. That was deplorable. I would never make you renounce the Mets.”

Sonny smiles too.

Another unspoken ‘I love you.’

“Any other thoughts, Sonny? Anything on my failed nuptials?”

Sonny keeps smiling.

“Well, just ‘cause you failed once, it doesn’t mean anything. Maybe you’re gonna be luckier with marriage number two. By the way, all my aunts are always tellin’ me I’ll make somebody a great husband one day. Just sayin’. No pressure.”

Sonny can feel Barba’s belly vibrating.

Barba is laughing.

Why wouldn’t he be?

That was a joke.

Right now, that is a joke.

Of course it is.

Now.

Maybe someday it won’t be.

Barba takes Sonny’s hand and tugs on it, until Sonny gets the message and moves closer.

All the way closer.

Sonny climbs on the couch and lies on top of Barba, their thighs and knees all tangled up.

Sonny can’t resist grinding down, and Barba can’t resist grabbing his ass, apparently.

Barba looks up.

Relief.

There’s relief on Barba’s face.

Sonny thinks maybe he was expecting a more negative reaction.

That’s why he had his face turned away, the whole time he was speaking. Because he was worried Sonny would th-

“You got any thoughts that aren’t dumb jokes, Sonny?”

Oh.

Sonny has many thoughts. The dumb jokes were just his way to make sure Barba didn’t feel self-conscious after all the soul-baring.

But Barba keeps asking, which means he wants a serious answer.

Sonny can give him that.

“Sure, I got thoughts. I didn’t hear anything I didn’t like, if that’s what you’re askin’. You fell in love, and you did something impulsive. Who hasn’t? Sure, a secret marriage and a stormy divorce, that’s kinda wild, but I like it. It’s good. Shows you were passionate. I mean, you still are, just… I guess it’s good to know you were a romantic when you were young. I mean, you… Uh.”

Sonny knows he should really find a way to end that sentence with a compliment, but it’s kind of impossible to say, ‘You’re still a romantic,’ with a straight face.

_“Please_ don’t say I’m still a romantic, Sonny.”

Barba is smirking.

Sonny smirks back, because Barba just gave him an opening.

“Actually, Barba, I was gonna say you’re still young.”

Barba’s eyes look soft again.

He looks young.

He looks happy.

He looks like he’s in love.

Madly or otherwise.

It doesn’t matter.

Barba stares for a little longer.

Just before it gets awkward, he wraps his arms around Sonny’s waist.

Barba tilts his head up for a kiss and he rolls his hips and Sonny forgets to pat himself on the back for that great save.

Sonny loves kissing Barba.

They make out on this couch alarmingly often for two men who haven’t been teenagers for decades.

It’s usually when they’re both too tired to do anything more.

When Barba whines he doesn’t have the energy to get up, or when Sonny’s knees are sore from standing all day. When Barba is half-asleep after hours of working on his closing argument, or when Sonny is nodding off after hours of driving around to chase random leads. When Sonny is too impatient to properly prep Barba and Barba is too lazy to do it himself.

When they’re tired, don’t move to the bedroom.

They stay on the couch.

The first few times they did that, the first few times Barba said they should just stay where they were, Sonny quickly got down on his knees. On his sore knees. It wasn’t great for his aching body, but he figured a blowjob was the next best thing, since they were both too worn out for the real deal.

And then, one night, Barba pulled Sonny back up before he could start.

Barba straddled Sonny, pretty energetically for someone who claimed he was tired, and then he stuck his tongue in Sonny’s mouth, and then he started grinding down, hips gyrating, fast, and both their pants were undone but their underwear was still on, and he kept going, grinding and kissing, holding Sonny in place, tight, grinding and kissing, until they both came embarrassingly hard.

Sonny never thought he’d still be enjoying the somewhat juvenile act of dry humping well into his thirties, but Barba’s eagerness makes all the difference.

Barba is always quick to unzip, quick to press down against Sonny, quick to bite into Sonny’s neck and moan at the taste, Barba is always so hard and ready to go, hard for Sonny, and the thought of that makes Sonny even harder.

Barba really likes this.

Not as much as he likes Sonny bending him over and going to town, but still. For those quiet, sleepy nights when they can’t be bothered to move, this is perfect.

For tonight, this is perfect.

Tonight, Sonny keeps kissing Barba and tries to angle his hips so their erections line up just right.

Barba spreads his legs helpfully, wrapping his thighs around Sonny’s waist, and Sonny moans into his mouth.

Sonny really likes this too.

Sonny really likes it when Barba’s thighs are tightly wrapped around him, when Barba grabs onto his hips for leverage, when Barba reaches into his pants and gives him a few strokes, slow but firm, to get him all the way there, as they’re both breathing heavily.

Just like tonight.

Sonny is lying on top of Barba, and his shirt is half undone from before, from their Scrabble game, and his pants are unzipped already because Barba works fast. Barba’s thin t-shirt does little to separate their bodies, and Barba’s sweatpants make the friction feel even sweeter, and Sonny keeps kissing Barba deeply.

Sonny loves Barba.

He doesn’t say it.

Sonny just caresses Barba’s face as they kiss, a little too lovingly, and then he thrusts hard, once, twice, as a distraction, because Barba is always more receptive to loving gestures when sex is involved.

One hard thrust for a soft caress of Barba’s face.

One hard stroke for a soft kiss on Barba’s neck.

One hard bite on Barba’s inner thigh for a soft touch of his belly.

That’s how Sonny gets away with it.

Sonny keeps caressing Barba’s cheek, and he knows he should stop before Barba catches on, but he can’t, because he likes the feeling of Barba’s stubble against his fingertips.

Barba leans back.

Looks up.

Sonny thinks maybe he didn’t get away with it this time.

It’s obvious Barba knows what Sonny is doing.

What Sonny is feeling.

Barba looks flustered, and it’s not just because he’s turned on.

Barba looks mildly uncomfortable, and Sonny wants to say, ‘It’s okay,’ or, ‘I’m sorry’, and he’s not sure why.

Barba doesn’t let him speak.

Barba puts a possessive arm around Sonny’s neck and he kisses Sonny even deeper.

Harder.

Sonny knows what Barba is feeling too.

Barba doesn’t have to say it.

Barba never says anything.

Not until he absolutely has to.

Sonny’s heartbeat picks up, because Barba just spent an hour talking, and that means he absolutely had to say these things to Sonny, and that’s kind of amazing.

That means Barba wanted him to know, everything, and Barba wanted to disclose, too, and that’s huge, and Sonny is already beginning to overthink this, like he always does.

Fortunately, that’s when Barba starts pawing at his shirt, and Sonny remembers they’re supposed to be doing more than just kissing while silently freaking out about their feelings.

Barba seems to think he can get Sonny undressed without moving too much, but Sonny’s shirt buttons prove stubborn, no matter how hard Barba yanks at them one-handedly.

Smiling, Sonny gets up on his knees and quickly pulls off both his shirt and his undershirt.

Barba immediately reaches for Sonny’s belly. Sonny’s chest.

Barba’s hands are warm and large as they trail all over Sonny’s torso.

Barba’s fingers squeeze at Sonny’s skin and leave faint imprints which fade after a second or two.

Sonny hopes his heartbeat isn’t too telling.

Barba grabs Sonny by the hips, to pull him back down, but Sonny stays up. He wants Barba to get rid of those sweatpants, first.

Sonny thinks the t-shirt should stay on.

It makes Barba’s eyes look so green.

Sonny drags Barba’s pants down, slowly, on purpose, because Sonny likes to tease, and then he starts on Barba’s boxer briefs, black and tight and sliding down Barba’s thighs with little effort.

Sonny takes Barba in his hand, wet and smooth and so hard already, and he starts stroking as he leans down to place a few kisses low on Barba’s stomach, where Sonny’s t-shirt ends and Barba’s skin begins.

Barba’s hips buck as Sonny’s tongue gently nudges him, brushing but not licking, fist squeezing tighter.

Sonny kisses his way upwards, mouth moving from warm skin to soft cotton and then to warm skin again, as he gets to Barba’s collarbone.

Barba hooks an elbow around Sonny’s neck and pulls, he pulls until Sonny is lying flat on top of him again.

This is how Barba likes it.

Sonny lying on top of him, between his legs, in his arms, chest to chest, grinding and kissing until they both come.

Barba is naked save for Sonny’s t-shirt, and Sonny himself is shirtless, but he’s still wearing his slacks.

It’s mostly for Barba’s sake.

Sonny knows for a fact that Barba prefers it when they’re both partially clothed. When he has something to hold onto.

Barba loves to pull at the fabric, sometimes stretching it until it rips. He’s already ruined several of Sonny’s t-shirts, some dress shirts and even an old pair of pants.

Never mind the underwear.

No wonder he’s always buying Sonny new pairs.

Sonny would complain, but he’s ruined his share of Barba’s stuff too. The truth is, he gets a kick out of coming on Barba’s expensive clothes.

Sure, Sonny’s old t-shirt doesn’t qualify as ‘expensive,’ but he thinks he’ll enjoy marking it anyway.

They both have their little kinks, but it works for them.

It _really_ works, as Barba spreads his legs and starts rubbing up against Sonny’s crotch.

Unfortunately, this whole ‘partially clothed’ business has its drawbacks.

Namely, Sonny’s undone zipper, grazing Barba’s bare flesh.

Barba hisses, sharply, and Sonny laughs.

Not an ideal reaction, but Barba lets it slide, too busy pulling down Sonny’s pants until they’re safely out of the way and around his knees.

Barba doesn’t pull Sonny’s boxers down.

Plaid.

Barba always complains, but the way he grabs the loose fabric tells a different story.

Sonny starts grinding, again, slow, and Barba meets him mid-thrust.

They’re both so hard.

They’re kissing, again, deep, their mouths open and panting, their tongues brushing against each other’s lips, and Barba’s arm snakes around Sonny’s neck, again, tight, holding him in place.

Like Sonny’s gonna go anywhere.

This position severely limits Sonny’s movements, and Barba’s death grip doesn’t help either, not when Sonny really wants to kiss his way back down Barba’s body, but there are worse problems to have.

Sonny missed this.

Sonny missed more than this, more than a quick dry humping session on Barba’s couch with half their clothes still on, but it’s been four days and this will do just fine.

Barba clearly feels the same way.

Sonny can tell, because Barba’s hips are moving fast, faster, like he can’t wait, like he needs to come, and Sonny thinks back to last night, when a drunk Barba promised he’d be quick, and it was less tempting than it was endearing, and Sonny wanted to indulge him, Sonny always wants to indulge Barba, and Sonny loves Barba, a lot, and…

And, thankfully, before Sonny can do something stupid like say that out loud, Barba bites down on his neck.

That’s one of Barba’s tells.

Barba bites down, not too hard but not soft either, and he groans, the vibration travelling through Sonny’s entire body. Barba kisses that same spot, sucks on it, and then he starts kissing the underside of Sonny’s jaw. Barba’s kisses are wet, more tongue than lips, and Sonny moans with each one.

Sonny moans with each thrust, too.

Sonny can feel Barba through the fabric. Sonny’s boxers are getting sticky, tented and damp where Barba’s rubbing against them, against Sonny, movements less graceful now and more erratic.

Sonny braces himself on his forearms and grinds against Barba even faster, Sonny tries to set a rhythm, tries to make this good for Barba who’s too far gone to do much more than gasp and suck on Sonny’s neck.

Barba likes it when Sonny sets the rhythm.

Barba finally releases Sonny from his grip, and moves his hands lower.

Caresses Sonny’s back.

Up and down.

Barba starts on Sonny’s shoulder blades and goes all the way down to the small of his back, squeezing along the way, again and again, hands stopping at Sonny’s waistband every time, until they don’t. 

Barba’s fingers worm their way into Sonny’s boxer shorts.

Barba still doesn’t pull them off, but he does push them down, low enough to expose the curve of Sonny’s ass.

Sonny keeps grinding as Barba starts kneading.

Spreading him.

Barba’s hands move even lower, and Sonny’s hips jump when he feels Barba’s fingers sliding down his ass cheeks, fingertips rubbing at the soft skin.

Sonny wishes they were on a real bed.

On Barba’s very real bed, the one that’s just a few feet away, the one that comes with a fully stocked nightstand.

Later.

Not tonight.

They’re both too exhausted.

Maybe tomorrow morning.

Tomorrow night, maybe.

Maybe Sonny can bring his uniform.

He’s not even sure if Barba remembers admiring it. Drooling over it, more like. Requesting the hat.

_Just_ the hat.

Barba probably doesn’t remember.

Any of it.

Barba was pretty drunk.

Pretty worried, too.

And glad, because he didn’t lose Sonny.

As if that could ever happen.

It would take a bullet.

Sonny would have to take a bullet for that to happen.

Or Barba.

Barba could take a bullet, and then Sonny would lose _him,_ and Sonny really needs to stop thinking about that because they’re both safe, now, right now they’re both safe, and Barba is writhing and breathing fast and he needs to come, and Sonny needs to help him get there, now, right now, while they’re both still alive.

Sonny loves Barba.

Sonny wants another kiss, but that’s hard to do with Barba’s mouth latched onto his neck.

Sonny kisses Barba’s hair, instead. Sonny kisses Barba’s temple, because that’s all he can reach.

Barba lets go of Sonny’s ass, which is regrettable, and he wraps his arms around Sonny’s waist.

It’s an embrace.

Barba holds Sonny tight, and he turns his head just enough for Sonny to kiss him on the lips.

Barba knows.

Sonny never gets away with it.

It’s okay.

Barba squeezes Sonny tighter and deepens the kiss, turning his head fully until he’s breathing fast and hard and warm into Sonny’s mouth.

All Sonny can do is keep rolling his hips and wait for Barba to come.

All Sonny can hope is that he doesn’t blurt anything out.

Barba’s thighs tense up.

That’s another tell.

Barba’s thighs tense up around Sonny’s hips, and Sonny knows he’s close.

They don’t stop kissing.

Barba inhales, sucking in Sonny’s own breath, and he stops moving, and his fingers dig into Sonny’s back, and that’s the final tell, and Sonny moans before it even happens, Sonny moans as Barba starts coming.

Sonny keeps grinding, helping Barba along, feeling the slow and steady stream of Barba’s come striping his chest, Sonny keeps moving, their bellies rubbing together, all friction gone, everything wet, and Sonny suspects that aquamarine t-shirt may have finally seen its last days.

Sonny is surprised it survived this long.

Barba’s hips slow down, spurts coming further apart, until Sonny feels a long exhale against his lips.

After a few seconds, Barba’s fingers stop trying to break Sonny’s skin.

Barba’s thighs relax, legs dropping flat on the couch.

Barba’s chest is heaving.

Sonny smiles as he bends down for a few quick pecks, biting at Barba’s lips.

Barba will be way too sensitive to continue, at least for the next several minutes, but Sonny is willing to wait, and kissing seems like a great way to pass the time.

Except Barba doesn’t seem to agree.

Barba starts pulling at Sonny’s messy boxers, trying to push them down. It appears Barba has no use for them now that he’s had his orgasm.

The waistband stretches almost to the point of tearing, because Barba does nothing by halves, and Sonny would be lying if he said he doesn’t enjoy the sting of the strained fabric against his hips.

Barba reaches between their bodies, between Sonny’s legs, and he starts stroking.

It only lasts a few seconds.

Sonny is way past teasing at this point, and he’s about to give Barba a piece of his mind for stopping, when he feels Barba touching his torso.

Barba smirks as he swipes a large hand across Sonny’s belly.

Barba gathers up some of his own come between his fingers, and then he starts stroking Sonny again.

The strokes are much smoother now.

Sonny is not proud of the sound he makes in response.

Sonny is even less proud of the fact he lands on Barba’s chest with a thud, trapping Barba’s hand between them, all because he has suddenly lost the ability to hold himself up.

For some reason.

Barba starts laughing, low and quiet, right in Sonny’s ear.

Sonny loves that sound.

Sonny loves Barba.

Sonny kisses Barba on the cheek.

There’s no accompanying sexy gesture.

No attempt at subterfuge.

There’s no need for one.

Barba knows.

Barba looks at Sonny.

He’s not laughing anymore.

Barba looks mildly uncomfortable again, and then he starts shifting, trying to push Sonny off of him.

Sonny blinks in confusion, but he goes along with Barba’s manhandling.

He always does.

Barba’s intentions are not immediately clear.

They never are.

Sonny is expecting anything from getting kicked off the couch to getting a blowjob.

Hoping it’s the latter, Sonny lets Barba arrange their limbs to his liking.

Sonny questions that decision a few seconds later, when he finds himself pancaked between Barba’s body and the back of the couch.

They’re facing each other now, both of them lying on their sides and awkwardly trying to figure out where to put their hands. It’s pretty cramped, and Sonny suspects half of Barba’s ass is probably hanging in mid-air, but still.

It’s good.

Sonny never should have doubted Barba.

This is good.

Comfortable, almost.

Cozy.

Sonny doesn’t even mind feeling boxed in, not when it’s Barba’s arms around him.

This is good, and it will get even better when Sonny gets _just_ a little closer.

There’s still a few inches separating them, and Sonny tries to reach for Barba’s hips, to bring their bodies together.

He doesn’t get a chance to do that, because Barba slides a knee between his legs and Sonny forgets to move.

Barba’s thigh nudges Sonny’s balls, once, and then again, and again, the rhythm infuriatingly slow.

Teasing.

Sonny thinks he’ll give Barba a piece of his mind after all.

Fortunately, before Sonny can start complaining, Barba picks up where he left off.

Barba takes hold of Sonny and resumes stroking, hard and fast.

He’s not teasing anymore.

Sonny starts thrusting into Barba’s tight fist, and he blindly reaches for Barba’s face before he realizes that’s a bad idea. Sonny diverts his hand to Barba’s torso, instead. As he paws at the stained fabric, he wonders if it’s too late to get rid of the t-shirt.

It probably is.

Not that it really makes a difference. The collar is all stretched out, Barba’s neck flushed and exposed, and the t-shirt itself is riding way up, barely covering Barba’s chest.

Sonny’s hand moves to skin.

To Barba’s collarbone.

That’s no good.

Any second now, and he’ll be tenderly caressing Barba’s jaw.

Oh well.

Bad idea or not, Sonny doesn’t think Barba will call him out.

Sonny reaches for Barba’s face.

Barba doesn’t call him out.

Barba just looks at Sonny, and then he scoots even closer, and they’re so close now, close enough for Sonny to throw a leg over Barba’s hip and keep him there.

Barba keeps stroking.

Barely.

He keeps touching.

There’s barely any room for Barba’s hand between them, but he’s valiantly trying to touch Sonny as much as he can, even if it’s just with his fingertips, even if it’s just to rub Sonny’s erection against his belly.

Sonny appreciates the effort.

Barba always works so hard to please him.

It’s strange.

It’s not even necessary.

Sonny is very easy to please.

Even now, Sonny would be perfectly happy to just rub up against Barba until he comes.

Which shouldn’t take more than another thrust or two, by the way.

Sonny is very close.

Still, Barba seems determined to work for it, until the last possible second.

It’s sweet.

It’s sweet, and strange, and considerate, and hot, and it would be rude of Sonny to refuse such thoughtfulness, so he starts rocking back and forth.

Sonny moves between Barba’s thigh, that’s applying just the right amount of pressure, and Barba’s belly, which provides just the right amount of friction.

Barba’s come isn’t even dry yet.

Sonny is hard and rubbing against soft and fuzzy and slippery skin.

Against warm fingers.

It feels so good.

Barba licks his lips.

He’s looking at Sonny again, but there’s no sign of discomfort this time.

If anything, Sonny is the one who’s feeling a little uncomfortable. Barba never makes eye contact for this long. Usually he stares at Sonny for a couple of seconds and then he goes in for a kiss before things get awk-

Barba goes in for a kiss.

Sonny keeps grinding against Barba’s belly, faster, Sonny keeps licking into Barba’s mouth, deeper, Sonny keeps moving and twisting but always stays in place.

Barba wraps that possessive arm around Sonny’s neck again.

Sonny can feel Barba’s fingers tangled in his hair.

Sonny thinks he moans, but he can’t be sure because Barba’s tongue is very distracting.

Barba tugs at Sonny’s hair, just a little, gently, nothing like the way he likes to tug on Sonny’s clothes, and Sonny comes.

Just like that.

Sonny comes hard, and he breaks the kiss because he wants to watch.

Sonny likes to watch.

They’re forehead to forehead now, and Sonny watches as streaks upon streaks upon streaks land on Barba’s belly, on Barba’s t-shirt, on Sonny’s t-shirt that’s Barba’s now, Sonny watches as he marks his old college t-shirt while Barba is wearing it, and it’s kind of surreal, Sonny watches as he marks Barba’s body, the dark skin and the bright fabric sticking together, and it feels even better than coming on one of Barba’s tailored suits.

Maybe it _is_ about possessiveness.

Barba keeps stroking to get those last few drops out of him, slow but firm.

When Sonny is done, he leans in to kiss Barba’s neck. He can feel Barba’s pulse against his lips.

Barba’s heartbeat.

Sonny tries to catch his breath, while he still has time.

Before Barba starts squirming.

Sonny waits for it.

Nothing happens.

Normally, Barba starts pushing him away almost immediately after they’re done, nagging Sonny to be careful, grumbling about them making a mess on the couch, but only after the fact.

Always after the fact.

Sonny always gets the blame too, for any unfortunate stains, even though Barba is the one who refuses to move to the bedroom.

Except this time, Barba doesn’t push Sonny away.

This time, Barba’s arms open up to enfold him.

Sonny would never call it cuddling, not out loud, even though they _are_ holding each other, and they _did_ just have sex, or something close to it, and ‘cuddling’ _does_ seem like the most accurate term to describe their current embrace.

Sonny would never say that.

Not out loud.

There are a lot of things Sonny would never say.

Things he doesn’t say.

Sonny loves Barba.

That’s one of them.

Sonny loves Barba, and he doesn’t say it.

Sometimes it feels like Barba won’t let him.

Especially in moments like this, when they’re both spent and breathless and blissed out, and it gets harder to keep quiet.

In moments like this, it feels like it would be so easy to just speak.

It feels like all Sonny would have to do is whisper.

Mutter a word or two, quietly, right in Barba’s ear.

That’s all it would take.

But Barba won’t let him.

Barba always makes sure certain things remain unspoken.

Usually, it’s by pushing Sonny off and rolling over.

Tonight, it’s by running long fingers through Sonny’s hair.

A tried and true method, and one of Barba’s favorite ways to get Sonny to shut up.

Or to make him come.

Sonny can feel Barba practically massaging his scalp, and it’s so intimate, and Sonny finds it impossible to make a sound.

Sonny just lies there, face in the crook of Barba’s neck, lips on Barba’s collarbone, breathing Barba in.

His heartbeat is slowing down.

Barba's too.

Their hearts beat in the same rhythm.

Sonny loves Barba.

He doesn’t say it.


	4. Obvious

Minutes pass.

Barba keeps caressing Sonny’s hair, and he shows no intention of stopping, and that’s new.

The feeling of their sticky bodies rubbing together, on the other hand, that’s getting old.

Sonny presses another kiss on Barba’s neck, and then he slowly begins to extract himself from Barba’s embrace.

Barba seems hesitant to let go. He holds onto Sonny’s wrist for a few awkward seconds, as Sonny first kneels and then stands up.

Barba does let go, but only when Sonny steps out of his reach.

Sonny would find this strange, but he has other things to worry about. Namely, kicking off his pants and underwear, because they’ve been bunched around his ankles this entire time and it’s getting really uncomfortable.

Barba watches, reclined, legs spread, a mix of his own come and Sonny’s all over his belly, Barba watches with those soft eyes, and Sonny is tempted to dive back in for another kiss.

For some more cuddling, maybe.

Maybe after he’s finally gotten rid of his crusty clothes.

Barba doesn’t even tell Sonny to be careful. Doesn’t even wince when he sees Sonny’s filthy boxer shorts landing on his carpet.

That’s definitely strange.

Especially because Sonny himself winces, when he sees the full extent of the mess they’ve made.

Granted, the worst of it is on their actual bodies, and the couch seems to be miraculously unscathed so far, though Barba is still lying on it and it’s usually the dismount that causes the most damage.

Their clothes, though, they’re pretty much ruined. Sonny somehow managed to mess up his pants, his favorite pair of grey slacks, by getting them tangled with his underwear as he took them off. Which is totally Barba’s fault. Barba didn’t nag him to be careful, and this was the result.

And that aquamarine t-shirt Barba is wearing, Sonny’s t-shirt, that’s done for. Sonny is going to have to ‘forget,’ not to mention forgo, another one of his t-shirts for Barba to wear.

Sonny suspects Barba already has his eye on a pink V-neck, or ‘salmon,’ as he calls it. It’s remarkably soft and it’s large enough to fit Barba, and it hangs really well even though it’s a little too loose on Sonny’s frame. It’s expensive, too. Theresa got it for Sonny a couple of years ago, with her employee discount. Which Barba guessed as soon as he saw it, because, ‘You obviously lack the taste and sophistication to actually buy this for yourself, Sonny.’

Barba has already worn that t-shirt, on more than one occasion.

He wears it a lot better.

He wears it a lot, period, whenever he spends the night at Sonny’s and needs something casual to change into.

Apparently, Sonny’s two-hundred-dollar t-shirt is what passes for ‘casual’ in Barba’s opinion.

Meanwhile, Sonny owns actual suits that cost less. Sonny’s old suits, the ones he got when he first made detective, out on Staten Island, they’re all in the one-hundred-dollar range. Boxy and poorly made and ill-fitting.

Sonny doesn’t wear those anymore. Hasn’t worn them in a long time. Not since he wore a suit that actually fit him for once, again courtesy of Theresa, who told him, ‘You work in Manhattan now, Sonny, and you need to dress the part.’

It was maybe three or four months after he’d joined Manhattan SVU, and Sonny still felt like a fish out of water. Both in the squad room and in the city. Theresa was hell-bent on helping, i.e. meddling, and Sonny was pretty desperate to fit in, so he took her up on her offer. He figured it couldn’t hurt.

Sonny regretted that decision as soon as Theresa made her first suggestion, i.e. demand.

‘You gotta shave, Sonny. Nobody’s gonna take you seriously with that thing on your face.’

Sonny remembers his surprise. He thought he looked pretty good with that ‘stache, but Theresa’s tone left no room for arguments.

Sonny shaved, and he only hesitated about three times before touching the razor to his face, and then he said a few prayers and went shopping with his sister.

He never really paid attention to his clothes.

Not before.

He was faintly aware his ties were ugly, mostly by the snarky comments they attracted from his colleagues, and he could see his suits didn’t exactly compliment his figure, but he never saw that as a problem. He was a cop, not a model.

Still, when Sonny put on the outfit Theresa picked out for him, he definitely saw a difference.

The next morning, Sonny put on a nice graphite suit and a teal shirt and a tie that didn’t look like it was from the 80s, and he showed up at the station, clean-shaven and feeling like a million bucks.

Feeling like he could actually fit in.

For once.

Barba was there.

Barba was at the precinct, and he practically did a double take when Sonny walked in.

Sonny stood a little straighter as Barba gave him a very thorough onceover.

Barba didn’t say anything, but he kept eyeing Sonny all day.

He didn’t seem to linger on Sonny’s face much, even though the lack of a mustache was definitely the most dramatic change in Sonny’s appearance.

He kept eyeing Sonny’s legs, for some reason. Sonny had told Theresa the pants felt a little too tight, but she had assured him they were perfect. Going by Barba’s reaction, she was right.

Barba kept eyeing Sonny’s ass, too. Discreetly, or so he thought.

Sonny noticed.

Sonny kept his jacket off all morning, even though it was pretty chilly in the squad room.

Sonny called Theresa on his lunch break, and asked her to revamp his entire wardrobe. One nice suit wouldn’t get him very far. He needed more. Sonny asked her to pick out a few three-piece suits, too. Sonny said he liked those. Sonny said he thought vests looked cool.

The pink t-shirt, it was part of that overhaul, because Theresa decided Sonny needed some nicer casual clothes, too. Baseball tees and bootcut jeans weren’t going to cut it in Manhattan, or so she claimed.

Theresa won’t be happy to know Sonny is about to relinquish that pink… that _salmon_ t-shirt. She was so excited for Sonny to ‘try something new’ and ‘experiment’ and ‘take risks’ with his style, and he’s barely ever worn the thing. That said, Theresa _will_ be happy to know that Sonny’s boyfriend will be enjoying it from now own, and that’s gotta count for something.

She has been curious about Sonny’s ‘mystery man,’ ever since Sonny unwittingly wore a designer dress shirt at the wedding of one of their cousins. The shirt was a gift from Barba. Theresa zeroed in on it immediately, and Sonny could swear that was the day he fully earned his big sister’s respect.

For some reason, she didn’t even entertain the notion Sonny had the taste and sophistication to actually buy that shirt for himself.

She just said, ‘Remind me to ask you for pointers on landing a rich boyfriend, Sonny.’

Barba.

Sonny’s boyfriend.

No longer a mystery.

They’re official now.

Sonny smiles.

Barba smiles, too.

Barba has been watching him, this entire time.

Giving him another _extremely_ thorough onceover.

Sonny suddenly feels very naked.

And then he remembers he’s supposed to be helping Barba clean up.

Sonny steps closer, and he attempts to wrestle his old t-shirt off of Barba.

Barba still doesn’t speak, still doesn’t say anything about Sonny making a mess, but this time Sonny knows better. Sonny is being extra careful, because Barba may be in a good mood right now, but tomorrow morning he might not feel the same way.

Sonny doesn’t want to get kicked out for leaving a stain on Barba’s couch.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

Once the t-shirt is off, Sonny uses it to quickly go over his own stomach, just to get the worst of it. Then he rolls it into a ball and starts wiping down Barba’s chest.

Slowly.

Sonny always gets stuck with cleanup duty, because Barba never wants to lift a finger.

Sonny doesn’t mind.

Sonny likes wiping down Barba’s chest, likes pressing on Barba’s belly, erasing the marks he left but also rubbing them in, rubbing himself in, into Barba’s skin, while Barba lies back and watches.

Neither of them can hide how they feel.

The affection that’s in Sonny’s touch, in Barba’s eyes, it’s plain to see.

They just don’t put it in words.

Sometimes Sonny thinks they’re caught in a race, a pointless competition to see who can hold out the most.

Who’s going to crack and say it first.

Sonny knows he’s going to lose, but that’s okay.

Sonny will say it.

It won’t be tonight, but Sonny will say it.

Tonight, he just sticks to touching Barba a little too fondly.

Like any other night.

Tonight, Sonny slowly drags the balled-up t-shirt across Barba’s body, their come finally starting to dry, and he tries to get what he can.

It won’t be enough, and they’re definitely going to need a shower afterwards, but that doesn’t mean Sonny can’t try.

Meticulously.

Sonny steps even closer, putting a hand on Barba’s inner thigh, squeezing, pretending he needs to hold on for balance, and then he starts rubbing at a persistent streak he left on Barba’s hip.

When he’s gotten most of it, when he’s done touching, Sonny finally tears his eyes from Barba’s body.

Sonny looks at Barba’s face.

Without the splash of color from the t-shirt, Barba’s eyes don’t look as green anymore.

And the soft look, that soft, warm look, it’s gone, too.

Barba is back to looking uncomfortable.

Took him long enough.

“I, uh.”

Barba falters.

Sonny knows what that means.

Barba is clearly about to mumble something rude. Something sarcastic. He’s just taking his time, trying to come up with a good insult.

To make up for the cuddling, probably.

Barba’s words, they’re cutting.

It’s his actions that tell the real story.

It’s the cuddling.

It’s the way he wouldn’t let go of Sonny after they both came.

It’s the way he held Sonny tight.

That tells the real story.

Sonny smirks.

“You, _uh,_ need to get up, Barba. Come on. We gotta hit the shower. We’re getting pretty ripe over h-”

“I love you.”

Sonny’s jaw hits the floor.

As does the t-shirt he was holding.

The t-shirt Sonny was just using to scrub his come off of Barba’s chest, not five seconds ago.

Not the most romantic prelude to a declaration of love.

If that’s even what happened.

Sonny can’t be sure he heard right, and it looks like he won’t get a chance to ask for a reprise because Barba is getting up.

By the time Sonny remembers how to blink, Barba has already left the living room.

By the time Sonny remembers how to walk, Barba has already made it to the bathroom.

He didn’t even stick around to hear Sonny’s reply.

Barba just said, ‘I love you,’ and then he walked away.

He didn’t even wait for Sonny to say it back.

Back.

Say it ‘back’.

Barba said it first.

Sonny laughs.

Looks like he won their little race, after all.

Sonny keeps laughing, alone in Barba’s living room.

He’s standing over the couch where they just humped each other like sixteen-year-olds, and he can see their clothes scattered all over the floor, all over Barba’s carpet, Sonny can see the Scrabble board on the coffee table, letters all jumbled and out of place, because at some point Barba’s pants landed on it, he can see their plates, wiped clean because Barba loves Sonny’s cheesecake, and Barba loves Sonny too, Barba just said, ‘I love you,’ and Barba said it first, and Sonny doesn’t remember ever feeling so content.

So excited.

So amused.

Sonny is practically tickled pink.

Fine, maybe the pink in Sonny’s cheeks isn’t all down to amusement, maybe part of it is happiness, maybe Sonny is a little flushed because it’s one thing to know Barba loves him and it’s another to hear the actual words, but still.

This is hilarious.

This is why Barba looked so uncomfortable.

That awkward expression, that constipated face Barba kept making all night, that was his, ‘I’m trying to tell you I love you,’ face.

Sonny laughs some more.

And then he realizes he needs to go after Barba, because it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility for him to get kicked out for not returning that ‘I love you,’ in a timely manner.

Sonny laughs all the way to the bathroom.

He finds the door closed, so he reaches for the handle.

Nothing happens.

The door is locked.

Sonny doesn’t mean to laugh again, because this might be hilarious but it’s also really sweet, and he’s happy, Sonny has never been happier, in his whole life, but Barba is being ridiculous and that’s making it kinda hard for him to take this moment seriously.

To appreciate it.

No.

That’s not true.

Sonny appreciates the moment just fine.

He just needs to get in that bathroom.

Sonny’s first instinct is to pound on the door, but he decides to knock very gently instead, because he thinks it’ll be funnier.

Barba doesn’t respond.

Sonny listens for a second, ear pressed to the door, to see if maybe the shower is already running, but all he gets is silence.

Which means Barba totally heard him knocking.

Sonny tries not to laugh as he knocks again, just as timidly.

“Come on, Barba. Don’t I get a shower?”

After a few more seconds, Barba finally speaks.

“Use the guest bathroom.”

 _Not_ what Sonny expected to hear.

“Seriously? And then what? I use the guest bedroom?”

“Yes.”

Sonny cracks up.

He’s glad the door is locked. He needs to get it together.

Sonny doesn’t think laughing in Barba’s face would go over very well.

Not right now.

Not when Barba clearly feels embarrassed for using actual words to express his emotions.

That’s rare.

Barba doesn’t talk about his feelings.

Doesn’t say, ‘I love you.’

Barba never says anything.

Not until he absolutely has to.

Barba doesn’t cuddle, either.

Barba just grabs onto random parts of Sonny’s body when they sleep, or he latches onto Sonny’s clothes, Barba clutches Sonny’s hip or Sonny’s shoulder or the edge of Sonny’s t-shirt, like he needs a single point of contact to make sure Sonny will still be there in the morning.

Like Sonny’s gonna go anywhere.

Barba doesn’t caress Sonny’s hair.

Not after they’ve made love.

Only during.

That’s when Barba thinks he can get away with it.

Sonny and Barba, they have a lot in common.

Sonny is not laughing anymore.

He’s smiling.

“Let me in.”

Sonny’s voice is low.

Quiet.

He knows Barba can hear him.

He knows Barba will let him in.

Sonny hears the key turning in the lock.

When Sonny walks in, Barba’s back is already turned. Sonny is not ashamed to say he gets a little distracted by the view, and Barba jumps in the shower stall before Sonny can speak.

Before Sonny can touch.

Sonny is half-expecting Barba to close the sliding door on his face, but it stays wide open.

Probably because Barba would have to turn around in order to close it.

Barba would have to face Sonny, and he doesn’t appear to be ready for that yet.

That’s fine.

Sonny doesn’t push.

Sonny just steps into the shower.

Casually.

Sonny pulls the door closed and stands right behind Barba.

Barba takes one step forward.

One step away.

Sonny follows, crowding him against the tiles, but still not touching.

Barba’s back looks tense.

All harsh lines and taut muscles.

Again.

Barba’s whole body.

Tense.

Sonny can’t imagine why.

Sonny hasn’t felt this relaxed in years.

This happy.

Sonny reaches for Barba’s hips.

As soon as his hands make contact, Barba exhales.

Calm.

Barba feels calm now.

Sonny drags his nails across Barba’s soft skin.

“What was _that_ about, Barb-”

Barba turns the shower on.

Sonny snorts and then he tries again.

“You know I was kidding about you not being a romantic, right? You didn’t have to get all mushy on m-”

Barba turns the water up.

Way up.

To the highest setting.

Sonny would laugh, but he can barely hear himself think.

The water is very loud.

And very cold.

The water is hitting Barba straight on the chest, full pressure, and that can’t be fun. Sonny is mostly shielded by Barba’s body, and he still seizes up every time the spray hits his shoulders.

Barba does not react.

At all.

He just stands there, getting blasted with cold water as he avoids Sonny’s eyes.

It says something, the fact Barba would willingly freeze his balls off just so he won’t have to listen to Sonny’s dumb jokes.

Sonny decides to stop teasing.

Sonny wraps his arms around Barba and starts rubbing. He rubs Barba’s chest, Barba’s belly, Sonny envelops Barba in a hug from behind and tries to transfer some body heat.

That’s his excuse, anyway.

Barba lets himself be hugged.

Held.

Barba nestles himself deeper into Sonny’s embrace, pushing back, sticking out his ass and grinding, slowly.

Which would be very hot, if only Barba’s ass weren’t so cold.

Sonny literally grits his teeth.

Having what feels like a shapely ice pack pressing against his crotch is hardly pleasurable, but Sonny somehow manages not to flinch.

Sonny is very proud of himself.

Sonny is also pretty sure that Barba is moving those hips with the sole purpose of not freezing to death. He’s surprised he can’t feel Barba shivering, but then Barba’s willpower is very strong.

Sonny knows Barba will _not_ turn the water down.

Barba is acting like the water is fine, like everything’s fine, like he’s not cold, like he’s not embarrassed, like he’s not hiding his face, like he didn’t just say, ‘I love you.’

Sonny squeezes Barba closer. He keeps one arm tightly wrapped around Barba’s torso, and he uses his other hand to reach for the shower panel.

Sonny remembers the first time he tried to use Barba’s shower.

Barba had woken up early, for once in his life, and he’d already showered, so Sonny couldn’t rely on him to work the controls.

Sonny remembers staring at the whole set-up for, like, ten minutes, trying to figure out how to turn it on. He managed to turn on the faucet, which was useless, and then the massage jets, which was an accident, but the actual showerhead proved impossible to activate. In the end, Sonny had to call Barba for help. The resulting side-eye was something to behold.

In Sonny’s defense, Barba’s shower is very complicated. Barba calls it a ‘luxury shower system.’ Sonny just calls it unnecessary.

Sonny knows how to use it now.

Effortlessly.

Sonny could turn it on blindfolded.

It’s been over a year.

Sonny easily lowers the pressure and adjusts the temperature, until the water feels nice and warm.

Until Barba feels nice and warm against him.

Sonny pulls Barba even closer, Sonny puts his lips right in Barba’s ear, and Barba’s earlobe still feels ice cold, but that doesn’t stop Sonny, because the water is still kind of loud and he wants to make sure Barba will hear him.

“I love you too.”

Barba slips out of Sonny’s grasp and turns around.

That’s all it takes, apparently.

‘I love you too.’

That’s all he needed to hear.

Barba is smirking.

Sonny knows that smirk wasn’t on Barba’s face a second ago.

Sonny wishes he had seen Barba’s expression, before.

Sonny imagines Barba looked nervous, and self-conscious, and adorable, probably.

Now, Barba is back to smirking.

Back to looking completely confident.

Smug.

That’s okay.

Barba’s smugness means the balance has been restor-

“Obviously.”

Sonny laughs.

Freely.

There’s no reason to worry about hurting Barba’s feelings anymore. Barba is no longer embarrassed.

Barba is smug.

The balance has been restored.

“Oh yeah? You’re saying I’m obvious, counselor?”

Barba takes one step forward.

One step closer, this time.

Barba pulls Sonny in by the forearm, bringing him right under the showerhead and getting him soaked.

Barba smooths down Sonny’s hair, pushing it out of his face when it gets all mussed up from the spray of the water.

Barba’s hands are gentle on Sonny’s forehead.

Barba’s eyes are soft.

“No.”

Oh.

Sonny doesn’t th-

“I’m saying you’re _painfully_ obvious.”

It’s a good thing Barba is still trying to be funny. If it weren’t for that, Sonny would be getting emotional right about now.

Instead, Sonny grins.

“Sure. I’m obvious. That’s why you ran away and locked yourself in the bathroom. ‘Cause you knew how I felt.”

Barba smiles, but it only lasts a moment.

He quickly recovers, and then he tries to glare at Sonny, he tries to give one of those patented Barba glares, but it’s not working.

The smile may be gone from Barba’s lips, but it’s still in his eyes.

It’s hard for him to glare when his face won’t cooperate.

It’s hard for him to be intimidating when he looks so happy.

“My point exactly, Sonny. You’re so obvious, that I didn’t even need to hear you say it. That’s why I left. I already knew.”

That almost makes sense.

It’s total bullshit, but it almost makes sense.

There’s a certain logic to this argument.

Barba _is_ a lawyer.

And, to be fair, Sonny _is_ painfully obvious.

Which still doesn’t explain why Barba locked himself in the bathroom, but it’s not like Sonny was expecting him to admit he got nerv-

“Unlike you.”

Sonny narrows his eyes.

He can’t tell if Barba is joking or not.

“You think I didn’t know?”

Barba scoffs.

“Of course you didn’t know, Sonny. You should have seen your face. You stared at me in shock for five full minutes.”

Sonny doubts it was _that_ long.

And, even if it was, Barba wouldn’t know it, because he ran off after about ten seconds.

The thing is, Barba looks so convinced, so certain, that Sonny almost considers letting him have this. Letting Barba believe he has a great poker face and Sonny was totally oblivious to his feelings.

To his love.

But that wouldn’t be fair.

Barba needs to know the truth.

The truth being that he’s just as obvious as Sonny, if not more.

Sonny fully intends to say that, in those exact words.

Right after they kiss.

Sonny leans in, and Barba’s arms instantly wrap around his neck.

Barba looks up, eyes blinking fast to shake off the water drops.

Barba’s lips are still cool to the touch, but his mouth is warm.

Sonny loves him.

Sonny kisses Barba deeply.

It takes some effort to pull away.

When he does, Barba is still looking up at him.

Eyes soft.

Happy.

Sonny doesn’t want to make a stupid joke.

Not now.

He goes for sincerity, instead.

“I knew how you felt, Barba. I know you love me.”

Barba gapes.

For a split second, he looks like he’s going to deny it.

Sonny wouldn’t even be surprised.

It _would_ be just like Barba to say, ‘I love you,’ and then refuse it ever happened.

To subvert the concept of love, mayb-

“Then you really need to work on your facial expressions, because I didn’t get that at all. For future reference, when you stare at someone all slack-jawed and wide-eyed, like you just saw a ghost, it tends to convey the notion you’re shocked.”

Sonny snorts.

Apparently, saying ‘I love you’ hasn’t altered the fundamental nature of their relationship.

Barba is still more than willing to give him shit.

That’s a relief.

Sonny would hate to lose the sarcasm.

“Joke’s on you, Barba. I _was_ shocked. Shocked you managed to say the words out loud.”

Barba smiles.

“I almost didn’t.”

Sonny nods.

He suspected as much, going by the way Barb-

“If you must know, I was _this_ close to spelling ‘love’ on the board. I thought it’d be easier than saying it. I was hoarding that second _V_ for half an hour.”

Turns out, Sonny only _thought_ he was shocked before.

He’s all slack-jawed again, and wide-eyed, and he thinks this is exactly the face he’d be making if he ever saw a ghost.

Barba sighs, loudly, before turning his back on Sonny and reaching for the shampoo.

Sonny is barely paying attention.

He’s currently trying to envision that scenario.

Barba, using Scrabble tiles to spell ‘love’.

‘Love,’ instead of ‘wanton’ and ‘lewd’ and ‘devour.’

And ‘lust.’

When Sonny wondered what other dirty word Barba could come up with, ‘love’ didn’t even cross his mind.

Sonny tries to envision Barba, grudgingly placing the letters on the board.

Sonny tries to imagine his own reaction.

_L, O, V_

Sonny thinks that’s when he’d stop Barba.

He would blurt out, ‘Me too.’

He’d blurt out, ‘I love you.’

He wouldn’t even wait for the _E._

He’d just kiss Barba silly.

And then Barba would probably roll his eyes, and claim he was only trying to spell out ‘loveseat,’ or something.

But only after their kiss.

Only after Sonny’s, ‘I love you.’

Sonny laments the missed opportunity.

That would have been so cute.

“That would have been so cute! You should’ve done it.”

Barba interrupts the vigorous shampooing of his hair long enough to shoot Sonny a side-eye.

He somehow manages to look formidable, even when the top of his head is covered in bubbles.

“Was my declaration of love not _‘cute’_ enough for you, Sonny? My apologies. I’ll try to be cuter from now on. I’m sure my future partners will thank you.”

That’s not nice.

It’s not even a good joke.

Sonny hopes his facial expression conveys the notion he’s unimpressed. Sneering lips and a flat gaze. Sonny thinks he nailed it this time.

“You’re not just passing through anymore, Barba.”

Barba stares.

He looks confused.

“You’re not. Alright? You’re not passing through. That’s done. That’s in the past. You’re staying right here. With me.”

Barba blinks.

Fast.

Sonny doesn’t know if it’s the water, or if it’s the shampoo getting in Barba’s eyes, or if Barba keeps blinking excessively because he’s baffled by the possessiveness in Sonny’s statement.

By the conviction.

Sonny isn’t asking. He’s telling, and Barba looks taken aback by it.

It doesn’t matter.

Sonny knows what he knows.

Future partners need not apply.

Barba’s arms slowly drop to his sides, and Sonny’s eyes follow the movement. It’s easier to focus on Barba’s hands. It’s simpler.

It’s getting harder to look at Barba in the eye.

Sonny watches as the stream of water hits Barba’s arms and breaks into smaller rivulets, dripping from Barba’s fingers.

Embarrassment is starting to kick in.

Sonny wonders if he was too forward. Too assertive. Too presumptuous. He didn’t mean to. He only meant to unequivocally declare that Barba belongs to him now.

For good.

Sonny lowers his eyes even more.

He wants to laugh.

At himself.

He’s worried about appearing too assertive, when in reality he probably sounds overeager and clingy.

Sonny watches as the suds dribble down to Barba’s toes, water swirling toward the drain.

“You want me to stay with you, Sonny? And where will you be? Where’s ‘right here?’ Care to spell that out for me? Pun intended?”

Barba sounds curious.

He sounds like he’s smiling.

He sounds like he’s happy.

He has to be, otherwise he wouldn’t be making labored puns solely for Sonny’s benefit.

All puns are terrible puns.

Sonny grins.

Barba used to make him nervous, for the longest time.

Now the laughter in Barba’s voice is what soothes him.

Sonny looks up.

Barba _is_ smiling.

Barba has one eyebrow raised, clearly trying to appear nonchalant, but it’s a half-hearted attempt at best.

Barba is waiting for Sonny’s answer with bated breath.

It’s painfully obvious.

Barba is standing under the water, naked, looking up at Sonny, and he looks strangely vulnerable.

He looks older.

It’s not because he’s soft in some places, it’s not because his belly is protruding a little, it’s not because his hairline is showing the earliest signs of receding, it’s not because his temples are turning grey, although Sonny’s hair is even greyer, and that doesn’t even matter, not now, because they’re both wet and the water makes the grey disappear.

It’s not that.

It’s because Barba has spent his whole life passing through.

Moving.

Different boroughs, different DA’s offices, different boyfriends, different girlfriends.

Five apartments in twelve years.

Barba looks vulnerable, and old, and tired, and Sonny loves him.

Barba is standing in front of Sonny with nothing to hide.

It’s his expression that’s naked, more than his body.

There’s hope in his eyes.

Hope, that maybe he can stop moving.

Maybe he can stay in one place.

With one person.

With Sonny.

“I don’t know where, Barba. I don’t know where I’m gonna be a year from now. Two years. Five.

“I don’t know if I’m gonna stay with Manhattan SVU forever, or if I’m gonna become an ADA here, or over in Brooklyn, or back home in Staten Island, I don’t know if I’m gonna take the Sergeant’s exam and transfer out to a different unit, ‘cause maybe working Special Victims will get the better of me someday. I don’t know. I don’t know what’s gonna happen with the job.

“But I know I gotta have you with me. Wherever I am. Or… Wherever _you_ are. I’m there. You wanna go, start over someplace else. I’m there. This… You and me, I want this to stick. No matter what.”

By the time Sonny is done exposing the depths of his own clinginess, Barba is standing one step closer.

Sonny didn’t even notice.

Barba is crowding _him_ now, against the sliding door.

The water is splashing down on the floor behind them.

Wasted.

Sonny misses it. He’s getting kinda cold. He’s pretty much all dry now, because Barba was hogging the shower this whole time, and Sonny barely managed to get wet in the first place, and that spray of warm water seems very inviting.

As always, Barba appears impervious to any and all temperature shifts.

He’s just standing there, looking at Sonny, eyes narrow and searching.

Sonny waits for Barba to find what he’s looking for.

Barba blinks, again, slower this time.

And again.

Barba is staring intently.

Like he’s trying to decide whether or not Sonny is telling the truth.

Sonny has the urge to be a smartass and say, ‘Painfully obvious, my _ass,’_ but he holds back.

This isn’t about Sonny’s devotion.

That’s as plain as the very Italian nose on his face.

This is about Barba finding it hard to believe that good things can happen.

Or last.

Sonny really wants this to last.

Needs.

Sonny needs this to last.

A sentiment that’s practically written on his forehead, though Barba seems to be having trouble reading it.

Barba keeps looking.

Questioning the obvious.

Sonny feels scrutinized, and a little embarrassed, and he’s about to kiss Barba just to put an end to the awkwardness, when Barba cracks a smile.

Whatever he sees on Sonny’s face, it’s enough to convince him.

Love.

Barba sees love on Sonny’s face.

“Scratch that part about Staten Island, and we’re in full agreement.”

It takes a minute for that to register.

Mostly because Sonny is too hung up on ‘full agreement.’

Barba fully agrees with him.

Barba needs this to last too.

“Don’t be like that, Barba. Staten Island is awesome. Very picturesque. It’s got great beach-”

“We’re not moving to Staten Island, Sonny.”

_‘We.’_

If Sonny moved back to Staten Island, Barba would have to move with him.

That’s what ‘we’ means.

‘We’ means ‘no matter what.’

Literally, because Sonny knows what a sacrifice it would be for Barba to move to his least favorite borough.

“You say that now, counselor. But if you let me take you out there for a weekend, you’re gonna change your tune, I’m telling ya.”

Barba keeps smiling.

They’ve never been to Staten Island together.

Sonny doesn’t even like it that much. He just feels he has to talk up his birthplace out of loyalty.  If it weren’t for his parents still living there, he’s not sure he’d ever go back, save for a high school reunion or a friend’s wedding. He’s got too many messy memories.

From school, from work, from his mother’s church group, from his dad’s buddies at the bar, from the bowling alley where he first came out to his friends at fifteen and got a punch to the face for his troubles.

Having Barba there, that’d be different. They could make better memories.

Something worth remembering.

If only Sonny could convince h-

“An exotic weekend getaway to picturesque Staten Island? Yeah, I’ll pass. Ask me again a year from now. Two years. _Five.”_

That’s not a joke, even though the tone of Barba’s voice is teasing.

Barba means it.

Five years.

Sonny slipped, before, when he said it, because he can never keep his big mouth shut, but Barba doesn’t slip. Barba doesn’t choose his words lightly.

Barba wants five more years.

Needs.

Sonny knows what he knows.

Barba lov-

Barba grabs him by the elbow and drags him back under the showerhead.

Barba kisses him on the lips. It’s a quick, almost playful peck, and then Barba’s gone, turning around, reaching for the loofah and the shower gel.

Barba loves him.

Sonny grins and picks up the shampoo, because he still hasn’t washed his hair and Barba hates it when he takes too long. After their shared showers, Barba likes to go to bed immediately. Barba falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

Unlike Sonny.

Sonny likes to wait until Barba’s grip loosens. That’s his favorite thing to do.

Barba always holds onto him, sometimes on skin, when they’re naked, and sometimes on fabric, when they’re too tired to have sex so they just crash in their pajamas.

Barba’s grip is strong.

Always.

Every night they spend together, Sonny waits for Barba’s fingers to relax.

Only then does he let himself drift off.

Sonny thought he was going to lose this.

For days, or weeks, or maybe even months, until Barba’s case was resolved.

Except Barba disclosed, and everyone knows now, and Sonny gets to keep this, Sonny gets to stay, Sonny can sleep right next to Barba, Sonny can protect him, because Barba is in danger, still, because they still don’t know who’s behind the death threats, and Sonny needs to be there, always, Sonny needs to fix it, Sonny needs to catch whoev-

“I love you.”

Sonny swallows.

Some shampoo.

Sonny swallows some shampoo and starts coughing, as Barba rolls his eyes.

The expression on his face is a way too fond. More than it normally is. It’s like he knows what Sonny was thinking about. What Sonny is afraid of.

He probably does.

Sonny smiles.

As soon as he’s done coughing, that is.

“You gotta give a guy some warning, Barba. I thought it was a one time thing. What, you’re gonna say it all the time now?”

“In your dreams. I hope you savored that last one, because I won’t be saying it again.”

Sonny laughs as Barba starts rubbing at his chest with the loofah, taking extra care to remove whatever’s left of their post-Scrabble escapades.

Barba holds onto Sonny’s hip. He pretends it’s to keep Sonny steady.

There’s no need for it.

There’s certainly no need for Barba’s fingers to be digging into Sonny’s skin.

Barba loves him.

Barba will totally say it again.

Just now, Barba said it because he could tell Sonny was worried.

Scared.

Sonny wonders why Barba said it the first time around.

What prompted it.

Sonny wonders if it was the escalating death threats, or if it was Mike’s funeral, which Barba spent picturing his own. Picturing a weeping DA and a flock of hypocritical mourners. Picturing Sonny, mourning for real.

Sonny wonders if that was it.

“Why now?”

That’s as far as Sonny gets.

It’s enough for Barba to understand what he’s asking.

Why the ‘I love you,’ why the lengthy heart-to-heart, why the official disclosure, why the drunken pleading the night before.

Why now, when Barba spent the last year and a half saying nothing.

Why now, when Barba spent the last ten months pretending.

Barba starts washing his own chest, probably to avoid eye contact while he mumbles his way out of the question.

Sonny already misses his unnecessary touch.

“Why what? Why did I say, ‘I love you’? That’s easy. Because I was sick and tired of waiting for you to say it.”

Oh.

Looks like Sonny was wrong.

About all of it.

For starters, Barba didn’t avoid eye contact. Barba is looking right at him, even now. Eyebrow raised, lip curled up, cocky as ever.

Barba didn’t mumble, either. Barba spoke, loud and clear.

Sonny was wrong.

That’s a relief.

This wasn’t the answer Sonny was expecting, and that’s a relief.

The truth is, Barba is right. Sonny has been holding in that ‘I love you,’ for a long time. For months.

Years.

Sonny has been dying to say it.

Of course Barba noticed.

It wasn’t hard. Sonny knows he’s been staring at Barba with a dumb, smitten look on his face for m-

“You’ve been staring at me with a dumb, smitten look on your face for months now, Sonny. I kept waiting and waiting for you to spit it out, until it became apparent that you were too nervous to say it first. Which is ridiculous, since you already knew how I felt. Or so you claim. Anyway, I got tired of waiting, so I said it myself. You left me no choice. You were getting annoying.”

Sonny wants to say, ‘I wasn’t _that_ nervous,’ Sonny wants to say, ‘I _did_ know how you felt,’ Sonny wants to say, ‘I loved people before but this is different,’ Sonny wants to say, ‘I didn’t want to jinx it.’

Sonny wants to say a lot of things, but he can’t, because he’s too busy laughing.

It _would_ be just like Barba to say ‘I love you’ out of annoyance.

To get it out of the way, so Sonny can stop being weird.

That makes perfect sense, actually.

In retrospect, this is exactly what Sonny should have been expect-

“I’m sorry, Sonny, were you expecting a different answer? Something more sentimental? What did you have in mind? Did you think I said it because I’m afraid something’s going to happen to you?

“Because that could have been _your_ funeral I attended yesterday? Because that could have been you inside that coffin, instead of you carrying it, and that’s not an idea I can live with? Because you almost went to Munson’s house with Liv, and I only found out days later, when you told me in passing, like it was nothing? Because I didn’t want you to die without knowing how much you mean to me? Is that what you were expecting to hear?

“Well, that’s not it. Fear had nothing to do with this. I told you I love you because I do. Because love is not a feeling I experience often. Because it was long overdue. Because I felt like saying it. Okay? Not because I was afraid.”

Sonny nods.

He doesn’t know if Barb-

“I signed the disclosure forms because I was afraid.”

Sonny frowns.

Barba signed th-

“I signed them because I was terrified. Because I _am_ terrified. And also for practical purposes, of course. I wanted to make my life easier, in case I _do_ have to attend your funeral one of these days. I wanted us to go through all the proper channels and disclose officially.

“Now that we have, I get to attend your funeral as more than a simple colleague. I won’t have to sit near the back, without a clear view of the service. I won’t have to pretend I’m unaffected when people start telling stupid stories about you. I won’t have to hold myself together to avoid attracting attention.

“Now I get to be there as your bereaved partner. Front and center. I get to sit with your family and endure all those pitying looks from people I barely know. All those pats on the arm, to console me after my tragic loss.  Now I get to sob openly, without having to worry about prying eyes. We disclosed, and everyone knows, so no one will be wondering why the hell an esteemed Assistant District Attorney is crying over a random cop from Staten Island.”

Sonny stares.

His mouth is hanging open, and he can still feel the chemical taste of shampoo on the back of his tongue, and he doesn’t know what to say.

It wasn’t Barba’s potential death which prompted this.

It was Sonny’s.

In retrospect, this is exactly what Sonny should have been expecting.

That’s why Barba got drunk last night, after the funeral. His drinking seemed to be slow and measured, as always, until Sonny casually told him about almost going to Munson’s house. That’s when Barba started losing count of his drinks. Sonny didn’t even realize.

That’s why Barba kept asking Sonny to come up to his apartment. Barba needed Sonny, because he was upset, he was emotional, and Sonny just thought he was drunk, and Sonny feels even guiltier about leaving him alone. So what if people found out? Sonny should have stayed. Sonny will stay, from now on. Always.

That’s why Barba held onto Sonny, after they made love. Why he wouldn’t let go. That’s what the cuddling was about.

Barba was worried.

Scared.

Barba loves Sonny.

Barba said it again already, more than once, and it hasn’t even been two minutes.

It’s just now sinking in.

Sonny thought he knew how Barba felt, but it’s just now sinking in.

It’s one thing to watch as a hilariously flustered Barba mutters, ‘I love you,’ and runs out of the room.

It’s different to watch as Barba stands there, calm and collected, and says he’d sob at Sonny’s funeral.

It’s very different.

Sonny had never considered the implications.

Sonny knew Barba loved him, but he didn’t know what that meant.

To Sonny, love means wanting to cook for Barba, wanting to make him breakfast and pack his lunch, love means wanting to kiss Barba good morning and good night every day, love means trying to surreptitiously touch Barba’s ass at work, or his soft little belly at home, love means falling asleep on the couch right next to Barba with _C-SPAN_ playing, love means biting that spot on Barba’s inner thigh, right where he likes it.

To Barba, love means worrying about where he’ll sit at Sonny’s funeral.

To Barba, love means worrying, period.

Sonny worries too, but he usually prefers to block it out.

Usually.

Sonny prefers to stay in denial over such things as bereavement, and having to carry Barba’s coffin, and meeting Barba’s mother for the first time at her son’s funeral, and breaking down after seeing her wearing the rose gold earrings he picked out, because Barba was too busy to buy a birthday gift for his own mother.

Sonny prefers to disregard such thoughts as having to fight Carmen for the privilege of clearing out Barba’s office, and taking some of Barba’s personal items home with him, and stashing them in the bottom of a drawer, along with the keys to his apartment, and the books, and the cufflinks, and all the stupid stuff he’s collected over the past year but never gave Barba, because he’s a coward.

Sonny prefers to ignore the possibility that all his hiding places, all the drawers and the cabinets where he hides the tokens of his love, could one day turn into scattered reminders of his loss.

A small cemetery in every room.

His entire home, a graveyard.

Sonny prefers not to dwell on the idea of living in an apartment littered with the little things Barba left behind.

Sonny prefers not to think about _being_ left behind.

Sonny is starting to hyperventilate, and he needs to stop, because thinking about losing Barba is beyond his emotional capacity.

To Sonny, love means refusing to worry, because to do so would be debilitating.

It _is_ debilitating, and Sonny tries t-

“It’s alright, Sonny. Don’t… You’re not dead. Obviously. So… Let’s not worry about that. I won’t be attending your funeral anytime soon. Which is good, because it means I won’t have to meet your sisters. That’s actually the main reason I want you to stay alive.”

Barba looks apologetic.

That’s rare.

Barba is trying to wash Sonny’s left shoulder, scrubbing tentatively, palm spread on Sonny’s chest for no reason.

Probably because he’s belatedly realizing how much all this talk of death is affecting Sonny.

Sonny tries to smile, but it’s too soon.

“What about your funeral, Barba?”

Sonny’s voice sounds a little too raw, even to his own ears.

Could be all that shampoo he swallowed.

Barba has the nerve to smirk.

“What about it? I told you already. Hundreds of people will show up to kiss the DA’s ass. Most of them will be inwardly happy I kicked the bucket. I’m sure some of them will be outwardly happy, too. Oh, do you think you could you wear your official uniform? It would really impress my mother. Or are you not allowed to wear it to civilian funerals?”

Sonny exhales.

Part of him wishes Barba would stop trying to be funny, and part of him is relieved, because when Barba is being serious it’s almost too much to handl-

“On second thought, don’t wear it. I don’t want you looking _too_ good. A lot of people will be there, I don’t want you catching anyone’s eye. While we’re on the subject, after I’m gone, I expect you to take a vow of celibacy and live out the rest of your days in pious contemplation.”

Sonny does smile at that.

It’s a bad joke. It’s a terrible joke, but Sonny smiles anyway, because Barba’s hand has made its way down to his hip again.

Barba is pulling him in.

“You… We don’t have to worry about my funeral either, Sonny. Okay? I don’t plan on dying just yet.”

Sonny winces.

Barba doesn’t know that.

No one knows that, but Barba especially doesn’t.

“Yeah? Tell that to Heredio and whoever hired him. You’re mad I didn’t tell you about almost going to Munson’s house. Almost. I didn’t even go. I was never in any danger, and you already picked out a suit to wear to my funeral.

“How do you think I feel? You _are_ in danger, Barba. Right now. People have been out to kill you for ten freakin’ months, and I only found out four days ago. But I guess I should be grateful you decided to tell me. I could’ve found out the hard way. By getting a call sayin’ somebody tripped over your dead body. And that’s _if_ Heredio’s guys decided to leave a body behind. A dead body means evidence, linking back to them. They probably would’ve gotten rid of your c-”

“Sonny.”

Sonny stops talking.

Barba looks uncomfortable again, this time in a bad way.

His hand falls from Sonny’s hip.

Sonny feels guilty for snapping.

Barba did apologize.

Barba admitted he should have told Sonny sooner.

But he never explained why he didn’t.

They had a fight, but not a conversation.

And then Barba had the gall to start griping about Sonny’s safety, like he wasn’t the one with the stalker and the long list of enemies and the twenty-four-hour protective detail.

The thing is, Sonny _does_ have to worry about Barba’s funeral.

Still.

That’s no excuse for him to snap.

Fear is no excuse.

Sonny deflates.

He reaches for Barba’s wrist.

Grabs it.

It feels awkward.

The water is still splashing down behind them.

“I’m sorry. Just… You should have told me, Barba. I’m supposed to protect you.”

Barba pulls away from Sonny’s grip, and Sonny worries for about two seconds, until Barba takes his hand, instead.

It doesn’t feel awkward anymore.

“You’re not supposed to protect me, Sonny. I have an entire team dedicated to my safety. Rodriguez and her merry band of idiots. I’ll be fine. Granted, their performance leaves a lot to be desired, but they are at least somewhat efficient. Let them worry about all this. That’s their job. It’s not your job to protect m-”

“Who said it was my job?”

The softness returns in Barba’s eyes.

“How noble of you.”

Sonny’s hand tightens around Barba’s, squeezing, probably way too hard.

“You should have told me. The first time somebody called and left a threatening message, you should have let me know. Right away. I… Look, I get it, we weren’t together very long back then, but I still… I could’ve helped. You know I… I would’ve done anything.”

_‘For you.’_

That’s what Sonny doesn’t say.

_‘I would die for you.’_

Sonny doesn’t say that either.

Barba seems to hear it anyway.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. I would hate to see you waste your potential over me. I’m old and tired and done. I’m stagnating, and you haven’t even peaked yet. If you wise up and become an ADA, you could have a great career. Not as great as mine, of course. At least before I ruined it with the Terrence Reynolds case. Anyway. You still have a lot to live for, Sonny. I wish I could say the same.”

Barba is smirking again, after yet another attempt to be morbidly funny.

Sarcasm mixed with self-deprecation. Barba’s way of coping.

Sonny understands that, but it doesn’t mean he has to like it.

“You got me to live for.”

Barba’s smirk fades.

He looks stumped.

“Alright, Barba? Forget about your career. You got me to live for. That’s how this works. And I got you. I love you, and I g-”

“And you live for me?”

Sonny was about to say, ‘and I got you to live for.’ Barba’s phrasing makes it sound less matter-of-fact and more overdramatic.

It’s still true.

“Yeah. Now I do. It’s different. I think back to three years ago, before we met, or two years ago, before we got together, and it’s different now. I feel like I got more purpose. Don’t you feel that? Like you got one more reason to get up in the morning?”

Barba looks unconvinced, but he doesn’t let go of Sonny’s hand.

“It takes me forever to get up in the morning, Sonny. You know that.”

Sonny snorts.

That’s surprisingly true as well.

Barba has to be yelled at to actually wake up, which Sonny never would have guessed. Sonny remembers the first time he had to wak-

“But I know what you mean. When the threats started escalating, when the texts became more frequent, I thought it was all a terrible inconvenience. I had a good life. I _have_ a good life. Finally. With you. A nice, quiet, happy life. Which is not something I’m used to. It’s… It’s not something I ever imagined for myself.

“It _is_ different. That sense of purpose. I feel it. When I lose a case now, I think about you. You always say it’s worth the fight, and I want to keep fighting, no matter the outcome. Or the cost. And that’s not my suicidal streak talking. I want to fight because it’s the right thing to do. Which is clearly your naïve, idealistic influence. I hadn’t felt this way about my work since college.

“I wasn’t like this. I used to beat myself up. I used to drink. I drink less now. Just the wine we have with dinner. I sleep better. I eat better. I get fewer migraines. I look forward to the weekends. I used to hate the weekends. I didn’t know what to do with myself. Now Fridays always put me in a good mood. Just to give you some context, before I met you, the last time I was in a good mood was sometime in the late 80s. This is different for me too.”

Sonny grins.

Fight aside, threats aside, fear aside, death aside, they’re happy. Barba is happy, and it feels good to hear th-

“That’s why I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want my life to change. I didn’t want them to win. Whoever’s behind this. I wasn’t going to be intimidated. Forced into hiding. I was sure you’d overreact, I was sure Liv would overreact, and my life would turn into a circus. I decided to delay that as much as I could. But I told you the minute I knew it was serious. I’m not stupid. And I don’t have a death wish. I happen to like my life.”

_‘Our life.’_

That’s what Barba doesn’t say.

Sonny hears it anyway.

Sees it on Barba’s face.

Sonny suspected this was Barba’s reasoning, and he’s glad h-

“But I wasn’t… It wasn’t like that from the start. This wasn’t some big secret I was keeping from you on purpose. I wasn’t lying. For the first seven or eight months, the threats were barely on my radar. You know this year hasn’t been easy for me, but the threats were hardly a factor. I wasn’t any more anxious than I usually am.

“I’ve been threatened before, Sonny. Many times. Empty threats. I’ve got piles and piles of hate mail at my office. Carmen has a whole cabinet full or poorly worded anonymous letters. You know that. I thought this was no different.

“About a month ago, I started noticing I was getting more texts, but I brushed it off. I didn’t even realize the messages were all coming from the same person. I only put that together last week, when Heredio showed up at the courthouse. That’s why I didn’t tell you sooner. Maybe I was in denial, but I didn’t think there was anything to say.”

Oh.

This is something Sonny hadn’t considered. The fact Barba genuinely dismissed the threats for a long time, and only made the connection to the Terrence Reynolds case in retrospect. The fact Barba wasn’t showing fear, not because he was lying, but because he wasn’t afraid.

No more than usual.

Sonny has been so hung up on the idea of ‘ten months,’ because it feels like such a long time. Because they’ve only been together for sixteen months altogether. Because it’s hard to accept that Barba was pretending to be fine for almost three quarters of their relationship, and Sonny missed it, and his math may be a little off but his point still stands.

Turns out, Barba was only pretending for about a week. Just long enough to get his bearings.

Which he could have told Sonny in the first place, back at his office, instead of lashing out and trying to change the subject, but what else is new.

Still.

Not ten months.

Ten days.

Sonny can live with that.

They both smile.

Sonny first, and Barba second. Sonny isn’t sure which one of them looks more relieved. He needed to hear this, but it seems Barba needed to say it even more.

Sonny lets out a deep breath.

“Okay. It’s okay. I get it, Barba. It’s all good.”

Sonny instantly regrets responding to Barba’s lengthy explanation with, ‘It’s all good,’ like a dumbass, but he thinks he’s safe when Barba pulls him closer and starts washing his b-

“Do you think you’ll ever call me Rafael?”

Sonny splutters.

He can’t even blame the shampoo this time.

They’re standing so close, and Barba’s arms are wrapped around him, and Barba’s chest feels nice and fuzzy, and Barba’s belly feels warm and soft against Sonny’s skinny stomach, and Barba is looking right into his eyes, and Sonny is at a loss for words.

Barba’s question sounds casual, and his hands feel relaxed as they scrub Sonny’s back, but his face tells a different story.

This bothers him.

Sonny, calling him Barb-

“I managed to say, ‘I love you,’ Sonny. Surely you can muster up the courage to call me by my first name.”

Sonny snorts.

Not the best response, but the frustration in Barba’s face is kind of hilarious.

This _really_ bothers him.

Sonny knows the feeling.

Sonny spent months and months trying to get everyone at the precinct to start calling him by his chosen name, and getting blank stares in return.

To this day, Barba is the only one who bothered to indulge him.

Sonny didn’t even have to ask.

Barba started calling him Sonny before they even started sleeping together.

That’s how Sonny knew. 

Barba sighs as he takes a step back. He turns Sonny’s body to the side, and starts rubbing the loofah all over Sonny’s ass. His irritation is palpable.

Literally.

He’s scrubbing a little too hard.

Sonny would laugh, but he’s busy mustering up some courage.

“Uh. Sure I can. I can _totally_ call you by your first name. I… Yeah. You always gotta complain about something, _Rafael.”_

Barb…

Rafael smir-

No.

 _Barba_ smirks.

This is going to take some getting used to, even inside Sonny’s head.

The truth is, ‘Rafael’ sounds kinda weird. Especially with Sonny’s accent. It sounds awkward, and Barba is smirking like he knows it, and Sonny is bummed out because this was supposed to be a momentous occasion, it was supposed to feel way better than it d-

“You could try calling me Rafi. That’s what all my loved ones call me.”

Sonny beams.

Partly because Barba just called him a ‘loved one,’ and partly because of ‘Rafi.’

‘Rafi.’

That’s more doable.

It’s downright cute. Almost too cute for Barba, but that’s why Sonny likes it.

“Yeah? _All_ your loved ones? And who’s that, _Rafi?_ Your mother?”

Barba smiles this time.

 _Rafi_ smiles.

This sounds a lot better, and they both know it.

“Yes. My mother, and my friend Eddie, and the DA, but only behind closed doors. And Liv, sometimes, when she’s not mad at me, or when she’s really mad and uses it as an insult. And Lorena, my mother’s best friend who’s like an aunt to me. And Mr. Hernandez, my tenth-grade teacher who still keeps in touch. He’s the one who wrote that recommendation letter I told you about, when I was applying to colleges.”

Sonny is still beaming.

Barba’s loved ones.

That’s good company to be in.

Sonny remembers Barba talking about that letter, on one of those nights they spent going over practice questions for the bar exam. Barba talked about the stress of getting into a good school, becaus-

“And my grandmother, of course, when she was alive.”

Oh.

Sonny’s face falls. He didn’t think that through. He knew about Barba’s grandmother, of course he knew, and he still tried to make a joke about Barba’s loved ones, without th-

“And now you.”

_Oh._

Sonny smiles again when he sees Barba’s expression.

Barba has a dumb, smitten look on _his_ face, for a change, and suddenly ‘Rafi’ seems very fitting.

“So, Rafi, are we ever gonna rinse off or what? You’ve been scrubbing my ass for ten minutes.”

Barba, _Rafi,_ keeps smiling as he leans in for a kiss.

 

* * *

 

They’re still kissing, and mostly rinsed off, when they hear the doorbell.

Sonny doesn’t mean to, but he instantly gets worried. He grabs Barba by the arm and stands in front of the sliding door, as if to block the entrance. As if whoever just rang the doorbell is about to bust in on them in that shower stall. As if Sonny can stop them, even though he’s wet and naked and his gun is in the living r-

“The cops downstairs are useless, but they’re not _that_ useless, Sonny. I doubt they’d let Heredio’s people ring the doorbell.”

Right.

Of course.

Sonny exhales.

There are three cruisers downstairs, covering the entire block, and there’s Kwan, parked right next to the main entrance, and there’s Bill at the door, so whoever’s ringing the doorbell has to be on Barba’s approved list.

Sonny has barely had time to eliminate Carmen and Andy the pizza guy as potential culprits, when Barba slides the door open and gets out of the shower.

Barba looks at Sonny with a look that’s part fondness and part amusement, and then he tosses a towel Sonny’s way. They quickly dry themselves off, and Barba pulls on his bathrobe as he heads out of the bathroom.

Sonny isn’t a big fan of bathrobes, so he just wraps the towel around his hips and follows Barba out. He thinks he’ll stay out, actually. In the living room. Where he can be seen.

Whoever is at the door, Sonny will stay and be seen.

He can do that, now.

They disclosed.

Sonny can be seen with Barba.

It’s probably Kwan, anyway. She probably wants to tell them something. It’s almost midnight, time for her shift change. Maybe she called first, but they couldn’t hear it because they didn’t think to bring a phone in the shower, and that’s why she came upstairs.

Maybe it’s her partner, that homophobe.

Let him see.

Barba walks to the door, as Sonny attempts to tidy up the living room. It’s a mess, but hopefully Kwan will only get a quick glimpse. It’s not like she’s going to come in.

Speaking of come, Sonny is all clean now and he’s hesitant to pick up their come-covered clothes.

Maybe later.

He decides to straighten out the coffee table, instead, and he goes to pick up their empty plates when he sees his phone is lit up.

Five missed calls, the last one a few seconds ago.

All from Liv.

Sonny literally runs to the bathroom, even faster than Barba did after that ‘I love you.’

Barba is laughing, loudly, probably because he just saw Liv’s face through the peephole.

Whatever.

Sonny keeps running, until he finds himself safely hidden behind the bathroom door. He almost locks it, too, but he figures that’s a bit much.

Sweet relief.

Sonny will have to make his official debut as Barba’s boyfriend some other time.

He’s not proud of it, but Sonny tries to eavesdrop. Liv could be coming by to check on Barba as a friend, but she could also be there for police business. Maybe Sonny needs to know what sh-

“Hello, Rafael. From your lack of clothing and the state of your living room, I take it Carisi’s here. Tell him to show himself. He needs to hear this too.”

Oh.

Looks like Sonny will be making that debut after all.

Wrapped in a towel.

He has nothing to wear. All his clothes are scattered all over Barba’s living room, stained and balled up and gross, and Liv can probably see them, and oh _God._

Sonny breathes in.

Then out.

No point in panicking.

Sonny considers making a run for Barba’s bedroom, because he’s got tons of clothes in there, he even has a couple of suits, but he’s pretty sure Liv would see him running because the front door faces the main hallway. Plus, with his luck, he’d probably drop his towel in the process.

Not to mention, it’d be weird if he greeted Liv in a three-piece suit while Barba was wearing a bathrobe.

Sonny _wishes_ he had a bathrobe.

Sonny wishes he had anything, but he doesn’t, save for some extra towels.

Which he grabs, right as he hears Barba calling his name.

When he feels adequately covered up, he walks out to the living room.

The expression on Barba’s face seems to suggest Sonny is possibly _too_ covered up.

Maybe that third towel was a mistake.

Oh well.

It’s too late now. Sonny has one towel wrapped around his waist, and another draped over his shoulders, like a cape, and the third towel is hanging around his neck, for good measure, like he just came back from the tennis court, and he’s n-

“Whatever happened to playing Scrabble, Carisi? I thought I told you to keep it clean and wholesome.”

Liv is smirking, and so is Barba, and Sonny is not prepared for this.

He wants to say, ‘Actually, Lieu, we _did_ play Scrabble. Look, the board’s right there.’

Problem is, the Scrabble board is currently concealed by Barba’s discarded pants, and Sonny doesn’t feel like drawing Liv’s attention to that specific spot.

Sonny tries to come up with a better response, but he falls short, so he wraps one of his towels a little tighter around himself.

Fortunately, Liv doesn’t comment on it.

“Never mind. I’m here with good news. Heredio gave up his bosses. It’s over.”

Sonny gapes.

“Wh-”

“About two hours ago, Heredio was informed that he no longer had legal representation. Krauss dropped him, and he knew what that meant. He knew his bosses were hanging him out to dry, because you told him that, Carisi, during the interrogation. Great job planting that seed.”

Sonny is too worked up to preen. Liv just said, ‘It’s over,’ and he really hopes that’s true, but he still needs more information.

Before he can ask for it, he sees that Barba is doing the preening for him.

Barba has that little smile on his face, the one that’s half-smile and half-smirk, the one he usually sports after a particularly good day in court.

Pride.

Barba looks proud.

Proud of Sonny. Of Sonny’s detective prowess, which he so frequently mocks. Frequently, and insincerely.

Barba has always been proud of Sonn-

“So he flipped on them. He asked to talk to the person in charge, and I went in. He was agitated, and he said he wanted to cut a deal. Less jail time, in exchange for everything he had on his employers. Turns out, Heredio was barely involved. He was the fall guy. Again, Carisi, just like you said.”

Sonny totally preens this time.

“So what did h-”

“So what did he say, Liv? Who hired him?”

Barba is impatient, and Sonny doesn’t blame him.

Liv smiles, probably at their charming little display of synchronicity.

“Heredio was hired by an NYPD union rep. Officer Christopher Donlan, the cousin of one Sergeant Kevin Donlan. You’ll remember him from his Grand Jury indictment on manslaughter one. This was about the Terrence Reynolds case all along, Barba.”

Barba nods, like this is exactly what he expected.

Sonny feels sick.

One of their own did this. A cop. A cop tried to k-

“So a single person was behind this? I went through all this trouble over someone’s _cousin?”_

Barba looks almost disappointed.

Liv just looks uncomfortable.

“No. It wasn’t just one person. There was a whole group of people, of cops, involved. This was an organized plot against you. Sergeant Donlan himself was a participant, as was Detective Campesi, who was also indicted for manslaughter one. Them, plus a few of their buddies from the 27th precinct. They wanted to, uh. To stick up for their own. They felt you were going after good cops, and they wanted to punish you.

“Keep in mind, some of these cops have a history with IAB. Ed’s been going over their files. Some of them are deeply corrupt. And… And some are not. Some just genuinely wanted revenge on behalf of their colleagues. Their friends.”

“How do you kn-”

“How do you know all this, Lieu? Did Heredio tell you? How did _he_ know? How did he give you names? I thought he wasn’t involved.”

Synchronicity.

Liv’s smile is a little lifeless, but it’s still there.

“Heredio wasn’t the one who gave us the names. He was just doing the dirty work. He only ever communicated with Officer Donlan, who was the ringleader. All Heredio actually did was show up twice, threaten Barba for a couple of minutes, and make five hundred bucks. That was it. He didn’t even send any of the messages.

“Donlan chose Heredio because of his connection to BX9 and to you, Barba. They thought we’d suspect he had personal reasons for threatening you, which we did. They were trying to muddy the waters. Same reason the threats escalated during the Munson case. To steer us in the wrong direction.

“We know all this, Carisi, because we’re talking to Detective Dumas who’s awaiting trial on reckless endangerment on the Reynolds case. They approached him too, but he refused to be a part of this, because he’s still hoping to retire on a full pension. He didn’t come to us from the beginning, of course. He was still covering for the others. But now the cat’s out of the bag, and he’s offering up names as part of a plea deal.

“We have, uh. We have eighteen names. All cops. All from the 27th. Most are patrol cops, some are detectives, two are sergeants and there’s even a lieutenant. We’re picking them up now. I… I’m sorry, Rafael. As a cop. I’m sorry I tried to defend them. To stand up for them, just ‘cause they carry a badge. They didn’t deserve it, and I shouldn’t have don-”

“Don’t apologize, Liv. And don’t say, ‘as a cop,’ like you’re one of them. We might have our disagreements, but I’ve never looked at you as one of them. There’s no one way to be a cop. I’m lucky to be in the presence of two good, honest cops right now, in this room, but we all know how rare that is. So don’t apologize.”

Barba’s tone leaves no room for doubt.

Liv’s smile finds some life.

Sonny isn’t smiling.

Sonny is disgusted.

He knew.

Deep down, Sonny knew cops were behind this. Sonny knew from the start, and he still feels nauseous as he’s confronted with actual proof.

Cops.

Bad cops.

Suspects.

What’s the difference?

Criminals.

That’s what they are.

Those cops who got a little too drunk at that bar after the indictment, those cops who got a little too protective of their colleagues, those cops who started spewing all that crap about Barba in the heat of the moment? Sonny still saw them as cops.

They’re criminals too.

Eighteen cops.

Sonny probably shared a drink with some of them, that night. With the same people who have been menacing Barba this entire time.

Sonny feels rattled.

Sonny needs to know more.

“So what was their endgame, Lieu? Were they trying to scare Barba? To hurt him?”

_‘To kill him?’_

That’s what Sonny doesn’t say.

Liv seems to hear it anyway.

“No. We don’t believe they wanted to hurt him. Ed, Captain Tucker, he’s in the process of interviewing some of them now. It’ll be his last case before he transfers to Hostage Negotiation. Everyone he’s talked to so far, including Officer Donlan, has said the same thing. Their plan was to get Barba fired from the DA’s office.”

Barba frowns.

 _“Fired?_ Me? They wanted to get the DA to fire _me?_ That’s ambitious. More ambitious than trying to kill me, in fact. How were they going to do it?”

Sonny remains unamused by Barba’s morbid little jokes, but he shares Barba’s curiosity.

Liv sighs. Almost like she’s steeling herself before speak-

“They were going to out you, Barba.”

Sonny’s eyes almost pop out of his head.

“What? How would that g-”

“How would that get me fired?”

Liv’s eyes dart between them. She’s clearly entertained by their tandem speaking routine. She looks like she’s barely holding back a smirk, and only because this is a serious conversation. On any other day, Sonny knows she’d be busting their chops.

“Hell if I know. For whatever reason, they assumed that outing you would get you fired. Maybe they thought it would cause a scandal. Maybe they figured the DA would want to distance herself from you if she knew.”

“Roselyn is a lesbian, Liv.”

Liv lets out a chuckle.

“I know that, Barba, and you know that. Obviously, your detractors did not.”

Sonny didn’t know that either, actually, and it’s kind of awesom-

“Not to mention, I haven’t been in the closet since high school. Never mind. How were they going to ‘out’ me?”

Liv stops laughing.

“They’ve done their research. They’ve been stalking you for several months. Not around the clock, but enough to gather information. We believe they took turns following you, when they were off duty. Those eighteen cops, they were the ones sending the texts, and calling you, and making all those threats. _Eighteen_ people. No wonder.

“That’s how they discovered you were dating Carisi. And, uh. Apparently they also found out you were once… I mean, it’s public record. They found out that you were…”

Liv pauses and glances at Sonny.

“That I was married?”

Barba says that casually, like he’s not talking about what is possibly his biggest secret.

Liv looks at Sonny again, probably expecting a reaction, and she is visibly surprised when she doesn’t get one.

She didn’t think Sonny kn-

“It’s alright, Liv. Sonny knows.”

Liv raises an eyebrow.

“Right. _‘Sonny’_ knows. Because you told him.”

Sonny can practically hear the air quotes around his name.

He can also hear the unspoken, ‘but you didn’t tell _me.’_

It’s obvious Liv had no idea Barba used to be married, and it’s throwing her for a loop.

Sonny knows the feeling.

Sonny almost wants to say, ‘If it’s any consolation, Lieu, I only found out about an hour ago.’

He opts to stay quiet, instead.

Sonny opts to stay quiet and watch, because Liv and Barba are presently engaged in a staring contest.

Barba doesn’t look particularly apologetic. He looks defiant. Sonny can only imagine it’s because of the Tucker thing. Barba didn’t find out about _that_ until months later.

Liv’s expression is harder to read. She looks irritated, but in a muted way, like she’s mad but willing to let it slide.

For now.

Sonny is pretty sure she’ll give Barba the third degree at the earliest opportunit-

 _“Anyway._ They found out you were once married to a woman, and they had proof you’re currently dating a man. Instead of assuming you’re bisexual, they assumed you were in the closet. They thought they had everything they needed to get you fired. They were going to go to the press with this. Donlan had a whole list of publications and websites.

“But then you disclosed, and they lost their leverage. You ruined their plans. I gotta tell you, Barba, I only got around to sending the signed forms to 1PP around nine o’clock, and by ten o’clock Heredio had lost his lawyer. News travels fast.”

Barba looks constipated again.

News travels fast, which means _literally_ everyone knows about them now, and tomorrow morning should be a lot of fun for the both of th-

“So the conspiracy against me was foiled, and my career was saved, because I told everyone I’m dating Dominick Carisi, Jr.? I see. Just give me a minute to come to terms with that information.”

Liv laughs.

Sonny doesn’t.

He has to make sure.

He hates to bring down the mood, but he has to make sure. He’ll laugh when he knows it’s really over.

“You’re positive, right, Lieu? They only wanted to out him. So they… They were never gonna kill him, right? They weren’t gonna physically hurt him. There was no hitman.”

Both Barba and Liv look at Sonny with matching looks of sympathy.

Fondness.

Love, too, maybe.

“Yes, Carisi. I’m positive. And no, there was no hitman. Heredio pulled _that_ one out of his ass, probably to scare us. No one was trying to hurt Barba. They were never going to kill him.”

That sounds good in theory, and Sonny hates to doubt Liv’s assessment, but still.

He has to make sure.

“But how… We can’t take their word for it. Heredio or his bosses. Those cops spent several months stalking Barba. That’s what you said. _‘Several months.’_ And they sent all those messages, and they put a criminal on their payroll to approach Barba and threaten him in person, and, what, they meant no harm? They’ll stalk, harass and threaten, but they toe the line at murder? How do we know that? How do we know they’re not lying?”

Liv smiles reassuringly.

It works.

Sonny feels better before she’s even said a word.

“We know that because we found the material they put together. The so-called ‘incriminating’ material. Multiple copies. All stored digitally. Months and months’ worth of files, organized meticulously. Donlan gave Heredio the flash drives, and Heredio stashed them at his girlfriend’s place. He was supposed to mail them out as soon as he got word. That was the full extent of their plan.

“We think that’s how Heredio found out you and Barba were together. You remember those hints he dropped when you questioned him, Carisi. We think he went through those files. Some of them were phone records, but most of them were pictures of you and Barba. Looking cozy. A good number of them could have passed for friendly, but a few of them, uh. Let’s say a few of them left no doubt as to the nature of your relationship.”

_Oh._

Sonny is both officially reassured and exceedingly embarrassed.

He thinks his shoulder towel is billowing a little, so he pulls it closer to his body.

Again, Liv doesn’t comment on it.

Probably because Barba’s side-eye says it all.

“Okay, Carisi? That was their entire plan. Heredio’s orders were to threaten Barba in person, and to mail out the drives. That was all. If it makes you feel better, you can take a look at the texts we recovered, between him and Donlan. Heredio gave up his second phone, a burner, to prove he was telling the truth.

“Some of those texts were from when he was first hired. Heredio offered to, and I quote, ‘rough up that asshole Barba, free of charge,’ because Barba put away his brother. Donlan _explicitly_ said Barba was off limits. If Heredio were to touch Barba, he’d get no money. Barba was never in any real danger. This was just about intimidation.”

Sonny doesn’t know how that’s supposed to make him feel better.

So much for being reassured.

He feels nauseous again.

Of course Barba was in real danger.

If Donlan had been a little more vindictive, things would have ended up very differently.

If Donlan had given the okay, Barba would have taken a beating. Maybe nothing serious, nothing requiring hospitalization, but that’s not exactly a comforting thought. Seeing Barba all bruised and battered.

Sonny starts breathing faster.

Barba _was_ in real danger. He could have gotten hurt. Heredio was ready and willing. One text, giving him the go ahead, and Barba could have gotten hurt. No matter what Liv says, Barba could have gotten hurt, and Sonny would have been helpless to stop it. Barba could hav-

“Carisi.”

Sonny stops.

Sonny stops thinking, and speculating, and panicking.

All because Liv reached out and touched his forearm.

The one part of his body not covered by the towels.

Sonny is swiftly reminded of his nakedness when he feels Liv’s fingers on his skin.

Even so, her touch is soothing.

“Listen to me, Carisi. They were _never_ going to hurt him. Think about it. Forget it’s Barba, and think about the case. What would they gain by hurting an ADA?

“If the ADA working with Manhattan SVU suddenly wound up dead, the DA’s office wouldn’t rest, and the 16th wouldn’t rest, until we caught the people responsible. A high-profile murder like that, there’d be a city-wide investigation. These people are cops. They know that.

“And we’d get them. No doubt about it. When you’re working with criminals like Heredio, you can’t expect confidentiality. He’d give them up, just like he did today, and the 27th  would crumble, and the DA would put them away for life. They’d all lose their pensions, and their families would be left high and dry. No way. It wouldn’t be worth it.

“And they weren’t going to touch him, either. Donlan was smart to tell Heredio Barba was off limits. I mean, you know Barba. An attack would only make him more determined. He’d go after them even harder. He’d solve his own damn case. And they would _all_ go down. IAB would have a field day. No.

“This was never supposed to come back to them, so they were never going to do anything drastic. It’s one thing to get away with harassment. But assault or murder? They’d never be able to pin those crimes on anybody else.”

Right.

Okay.

That makes a lot of sense.

Sonny needed to hear this. It’s hard for him to think about this case objectively, but Liv always has a clear head.

Sonny trusts Liv.

“Alright, Carisi? This wasn’t a murder plot. This was a power play. That’s why they wanted to get Barba fired. To ruin his career, like he ruined theirs. To take away his power. That was their only goal. And they chose to do it by revealing sensitive information about him, to humiliate him even further. So he’d be ousted in ‘disgrace’, and he’d t-”

Barba flinches, and Liv stops talking abruptly.

_‘Disgrace.’_

Liv literally used air quotes when she uttered that word, and it still made Barba flinch.

It still stung, and Sonny felt it too. It was a visceral reaction, even though he knows, and Barba knows, that there’s nothing disgraceful about what they’re doing.

Liv looks ready to apologize again, and Barba looks ready to tell her she doesn’t have to.

Sonny decides to intervene.

“Hey, Lieu, I know I’m no catch, but callin’ me a disgrace? That’s kinda harsh. And ‘humiliating’? Come on. Dating me is, like, mildly embarrassing at most.”

Barba smiles.

That’s what Sonny does.

Liv snorts, and she nods at Sonny in gratitude.

The awkwardness instantly dissipates.

“I still don’t understand why they thought I was in the closet, Liv. I may not talk about it at work, but I’ve been out for decades.”

Liv shrugs.

“Maybe they figured you were in a glass closet, and they wanted to shatter the glass. And, well. The pictures they took were all timestamped, with locations attached. Most of them were taken here, outside your building, and some were taken outside Carisi’s apartment. It was basically the two of you, going to work and coming home, for the last eight months or so. There wasn’t much in terms of, uh. Of actual dates. Out in public. I guess that’s why they thought you were hiding.”

Barba actually looks a little guilty.

There’s no need.

Sonny likes their nice, quiet, happy life too.

“Nah. We weren’t hiding, Lieu. He just won’t take me anywhere.”

Liv smiles a warm smile.

Barba’s smile is even more affectionate.

Barba loves h-

“I didn’t come here to hear about your relationship woes, Carisi. I came here to let you know that you can sleep easy. Speaking of, we’re going to keep the cruisers parked downstairs throughout the night. We picked up most of the suspects, but we’re still missing a couple. We should have them by morning. After that, you’ll be free to do as you please.”

Barba perks up instantly.

“Wait, that’s it? I’m free? I won’t have to suffer on the drive to work every morning, while detectives in cheap suits silently judge my outfits? I won’t have to be escorted by a four-person team every time I leave my office for lunch? I won’t have to call Rodriguez every time I have to go to the bathroom?”

Liv smirks.

“No. And you won’t have to announce your little sleepovers with Carisi ahead of time, either.”

Barba rolls his eyes.

At least that’s what Sonny thinks, because he’s not really looking at Barba right now. Or Liv. Sonny is looking at the floor, where it’s nice and safe.

At least that’s what Sonny thinks, until his eyes land on his underwear, complete with obvious stains, right by the couch, right where Liv can see, if only she looks down.

Sonny winces as he realizes Liv has probably seen it by now. She’s probably seen everything. She’s a cop. She probably scanned the entire room in the time it took Sonny to wrap those towels around his body and come out of the bathr-

“Great. That was actually the worst part. Speaking of, I don’t mean to rush you, Liv, but as you can see, Sonny and I are a little tired and we’d like to turn in.”

Sonny wishes he could disintegrate into thin air and only leave a pile of towels behind.

Liv chuckles.

“Alright, alright. I gotta head home, anyway. I haven’t seen Noah all day. Enjoy your sleepover. _And_ your last night with your security detail, Barba. Come tomorrow, you won’t be needing them anymore. Well, no more than usual.”

Sonny looks up, just in time to see Barba nodding.

Barba knows, and Liv knows, how true that is.

Sonny knows too.

They’re all in danger.

Always.

They always need to be protected.

They protect each other.

When they can.

Sometimes they can’t, and then there are buttons to polish and uniforms to wear and coffins to carry.

And tears to shed.

Not tonight, though.

Tonight they can all sleep easy.

They’re not in danger anymore.

No more than usual. ~~~~

“Thank you, Liv. For stopping by. And for taking care of this. Of me. Thank you for everything.”

Liv smiles again.

“No need to thank me, Barba. I’m just glad we can cross this off our list of concerns.”

Liv has a lot of concerns.

Sonny knows that.

She just lost a squad member, and she blames herself, and she has to work with a grieving, angry father in order to keep the 16th running smoothly.

Losing Dodds was bad enough.

Sonny knows Liv would never forgive herself if she lost Barba, too.

Sonny would never forgive himself, eith-

“Oh and, Carisi, you can take the whole day off. But keep your phone on, okay? And if I call, please try to pick up.”

Sonny winces, yet again.

All those missed calls. Liv must’ve thought he was ignor-

“Unless your hands are otherwise occupied, of course.”

Sonny groans.

It’s not the first time Liv tries to tease him, and it won’t be the last.

Not by a longshot.

Maybe someday he can even tease her back.

Someday.

Not yet.

Tonight, Sonny will stick to groaning.

Barba’s reaction to Liv’s innuendo is somewhat less awkward.

He laughs, as casually as he can muster, and then he begins ushering her to the door a little too eagerly.

Liv hovers in the doorframe.

After a moment, she leans in and gives Barba a hug.

A long hug.

Barba looks surprised, at first.

Sonny doesn’t know why.

Liv’s reasons are obvious.

She’s relieved.

She cares about Barba.

She can’t lose anybody else.

None of them can.

Barba hugs her back, tight, and for a split second Sonny considers joining in. He’s always wanted to hug Liv. He thinks he could probably get away with it. It’s been a hard week. Then again, one of his towels might come off.

Sonny stays where he is.

When Liv pulls away, she looks considerably calmer.

Peaceful.

She whispers a soft goodnight, no hint of teasing in her voice.

Just love.

She leaves smiling.

It’s over.

Barba locks the door and sighs dramatically.

“That’s the end of _that._ The end of my misery. Four days under constant surveillance. It felt like four years.”

It did.

But it’s over.

Their life can go back to normal.

They can go back to their daily routine. Dinner, and cable news, and sex, and sleep. They’re three quarters of the way there, already. Kind of. They did have dinner, even if it was cheesecake, and they did watch the news, even if it was on mute, and they did have sex, in a way, and now all that’s left is sleep.

In the same bed.

Easy.

Sonny can’t wait.

He hasn’t slept in Barba’s bed in four d-

“Why only three towels, Sonny? Did you forget I keep extra in the left cabinet? You know, you could have also used some gauze from the first aid kit. You could have wrapped up your entire body, like a mummy. That would have been less ridiculous than using _three_ towels. I mean, you _do_ know Liv could still see your nipples.”

Sonny laughs.

It’s really over, and Sonny can laugh now.

Sonny takes one step closer.

As soon as he’s within reach, he feels Barba’s hand pulling off the towel from around his neck.

The one Sonny mistakenly thought was covering his nipples.

Barba may be complaining, but there’s no heat to it.

Barba is playing.

He’s joking, and this time it’s not morbid.

This time it’s fun.

“Ha ha. Listen, Barba, I’m gonna be headin’ out too. Liv said it, you don’t need police protection anymore, so I guess you don’t need me to hang around.”

Barba scoffs.

Probably because Sonny couldn’t even finish that sentence with a straight face.

Or maybe it’s because Sonny is holding the belt on Barba’s bathrobe.

Holding, but not pulling.

Playing.

“That would be correct, Sonny. I don’t need you anymore. First thing tomorrow morning, I’ll be requesting the pertinent forms to disclose the dissolution of our relationship.”

Barba is back to making terrible jokes again.

He’s lucky Sonny loves him.

Sonny is about to say as much, but then Barba pulls off the second towel, the one Sonny was using as a cape.

They’re playing.

Sonny refuses to be outdone, so he tugs hard, and Barba’s belt comes loose.

“Dissolution? Already, Barba? And here I was countin’ on those five years.”

Barba smiles, and he wraps his arms around Sonny, tight and warm and steady, and Sonny can tell those five years are guaranteed.

Sonny knows what he knows.

“Oh, that’s right, Sonny. I almost forgot. You’re expecting five years. Well, I’d hate to disappoint you.”

More.

More than five years.

“I’m expectin’ five years, plus marriage number two. Don’t think I was joking about that, _Rafi.”_

Barba’s eyes are as soft as ever.

The truth is, Sonny was totally joking about that.

Maybe someday it won’t be a joke.

Barba seems to agree.

He’s not even running out of the room this time, which certainly bodes well for their future.

Barba is staying right there.

Smiling, still.

Sonny smiles too, and he’s pretty sure he looks dumb and smitten again, but he can’t help hims-

“Don’t look at me like that, Sonny.”

Barba says that with absolutely no conviction.

Barba loves it when Sonny looks at him like that.

Barba loves Sonny.

Barba presses a small kiss on Sonny’s lips, and then he pulls off the third and final towel.

Sonny would try to protect his modesty, but he’s too busy sliding the bathrobe off of Barba’s shoulders.

Slipping his fingers under the fuzzy fabric.

Onto Barba’s skin.

Barba kisses him again.

Deeper.

Long.

Barba’s hands slowly come up to Sonny’s face.

Tender.

Sonny leans into his touch.

They keep kissing.

More.

They’re in love.

Safe.

They’re safe.

There’s no danger.

Not tonight.

No more than usual.

It’s good enough.


End file.
